Guardian of Wisdom
by JSMac
Summary: Aryll, saved at a young age from an assault of Lizalfos on her village, is taken to Castle Town to study magic with Impa, who believes the girl can finish what the fallen Link started in the quest to permanently halt the reincarnation of Ganondorf. A sequel to Guardian of Power that can function as a standalone story.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story, though it can function on its own as a narrative about a world in which Link failed in his quest to defeat Ganondorf, is really a sequel to Guardian of Power; if you have not read it and don't mind a bit of novice writing, I strongly suggest you read it first. It'll give you a good background. However, if you want a more mature experience, I suggest you start with this.**

"Child, child, come inside."

Aryll looked wistfully at the gap between the two big black buildings that swallowed the little cottage in the middle, hid it from view. It was a small speck of green and brown in a stone metropolis of gray and silver, the tops of buildings and the edges of swords gleaming in the royal sunlight. Impa stood in its doorway, her ruby eyes gently tugging at the hem of the child's dress. The child turned around to give Impa a backwards stare before again studying the ceaseless flow of people tumbling over themselves through the streets. "Child! You'll be trampled!" Impa almost started forth to grasp the child's wrist, but stopped herself; the child must choose to come back on her own.

How quaint, thought Aryll. How very removed you believe yourself to be. Aryll was not one to stand aside and see the pitchfork-and-torch election take place at ballots of marble and granite. The political strife in Castle Town bothered her, and she would gladly remove herself from it, Impa believed, if uninfluenced by the nearly universal participation of the city's citizens and the feeling that she wasn't getting her full share of power in the world that so directly shaped her course of life.

"Child," Impa said again, more softly this time. Aryll hesitantly came to the door and silently shut it after her and Impa. "You don't understand the goings-on out there. The cries of the mob reflect the will of the people like . . . like . . ." Aryll stood, awaiting her mentor's hardly representative analogy; man as machine, nature as a gnawing, biting, scratching, consuming beast. "It's like pushing a marble into another with enough force among a group of marbles. The other marbles don't make a choice to move. A single marble's velocity is determined by the speed, and therefore the force, of the first; it has no say in its resultant path. And if other marbles are there, they'll be caught up in it too. Unfailingly." Aryll waited with silent tongue and listening eyes. And a little smile under her face.

"But is a marble capable of passive observation?" she countered sardonically.

"No, observation without some degree of influence doesn't exist. The idea will enter your mind. It already has. The political situation out there is not something you can have a legitimate say in, no matter how much whatever feeble-minded friends you've made declare otherwise. The information is cycled through a system that interprets weak restorative intent as malicious totalitarianism; the people will never listen to their king. And the king can say nothing to satisfy the people. Tell me: who holds the power out there?"

Aryll remained silent. She didn't know.

"There is no power distribution; don't you understand? Each to his own. Dog-eat-dog under the illusion of a coordinated uprising. To give into the illusion of power is to tell those who have it that you are lacking in it."

"And who would that be? If there is no power distribution, as you say, of course."

Impa almost smiled. "Forces even further beyond our control, of which I am a servant. Individuals are pawns in a cosmic game. And I am an instrument. With purpose. My only question is whether that is the right path for you. You know how your brother failed in his quest and left the world to rot, as he was an instrument, too, but a faulty one. Too easily redirected."

Aryll turned her gaze away. Why was it that she felt the burden of guilt for her brother's wrongdoings? He was the runaway, she was the obedient young woman, the perfect symbol of the serenity of the goddesses that Impa so treasured; the last remnant of a world she loved. To spend life beneath two hulking shadows and to tend vegetables that denied the absence of light. Impa's light was an otherworldy one, an invisible one, twisted through other dimensions and transformed into raw energy. Aryll knew that this bending of light through shadow was a power of hers too, a learned one, the trainings of that beacon of shadow and stillness in a flurry of garish light and motion.

She looked outside at the vegetable garden. So untainted by the chaos just strides away from it. She and Impa had tended this garden every day since Aryll had arrived when she was ten years old, since she was given a new name and a new identity. Before, the flora of Hyrule had been the force that enveloped and surrounded her, the dominant contestant in the battle between humanity and nature. But those were the Faron Woods, the thick, untainted wilderness. This was the Lanayru province, where all were guarded by thick walls that held out the freely-roaming Lizalfos, with which Hyrule had been at war for twelve years before Semak, the current king of Hyrule, had slain their leader, Ganondorf, causing them to disband. Now, they were no longer an organized army; all that was seen of the reptilian humanoids was the occasional roadside brigand. And all that was seen of the king was the occasional message from one of his nobles, a message that all would be restored in a matter of years, and that he would return political stability to Hyrule.

It had been seven years since the end of the war, as well as the destruction of Aryll's village in the woods, the slaughter of her caretakers, and the daring rescue of Impa as she fended off several Lizalfos with her dark magic and rescued the girl. Every member of the tiny village, and every stone or plank that was used in its construction, was now probably buried under layers of dirt. Aryll still considered that place home, and it was difficult for her to accept its current state: a pile of rotting ruins.

"I'm taking you to start a new life," Impa had said, cradling the sobbing Aryll's head. "There is no rescue for the others; there is no village. The only way you'll survive is if you consider my home your home. I am your new mother and mentor, and you will learn to live as a being of serenity." To Aryll, these words were damnation. Impa hadn't intended them to be otherwise, so fed up with the cruelty of the world that she couldn't be bothered to transform it into a half-hearted nicety. Aryll's home had been destroyed, and that was the truth. Every member of that resilient abode had been slaughtered like pigs. Yet another truth. There was no deliverance into the hands of merciful goddesses. The realm of death was a lonely and quiet place, where the goddesses that claimed hold and control over all had nowhere nearly as much power as they claimed to.

Sometimes, Impa wondered what she was even doing by taking Aryll under her wing. She was only fostering an unconfirmed hope that would likely yield naught but disappointment. Aryll really meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. It was Link who was supposed to, with his immortal soul stretched out over multiple incarnations, take down the final incarnation of Ganondorf and die an ordinary man, not Aryll who was supposed to become extraordinary and somehow take Link's place. She was only his sister by chance, and she held none of the ethereal influence present in Link. If she were to kill Ganondorf on her own, even with the magic of the sages, it would be just as it was with Semak; another incarnation would soon rise, an even more powerful one. Even now, Ganondorf had, through death, shed his mortal form and become capable of godhood after only a simple ceremony. Again, the world would face the wrath of the Demon King Demise.

To think she ever expected anything of the girl who now gazed absentmindedly out the window at the action in which she longed so much to participate, was laughable. She sought things too mundane to ever think in terms of cosmic restoration. For her, it was a great deed to save one person from a simple inconvenience, to incapacitate a bandit robbing a pottery shop. She thought the joy on people's faces meant something, and she wore the badge of her smile for the rest of the day, her face beaming with ignorant contentedness. Impa couldn't believe that Aryll, whom she had trained from the start to think in terms of the abstract flow of power among celestial units, was tending in the most human direction possible: toward the physical. How disgusting.

But was her anger really justified? It was, in truth, only the product of life long enough to never savor the simple pleasures that mortals enjoyed. They had all lost their novelty within the first five hundred or so years, and ever since had been mere infuriating distractions to which others had succumbed entirely. Life became a matter of manipulation, of prediction and of striving toward a far-off result, perhaps hundreds of years in the future. With immortality came patience, to the extreme, and consequently less tolerance for the impatient.

For a mortal, Aryll was, indeed, very patient. Satisfied to study and not to participate, despite her failure to understand the small ways in which she, rather than absorbing the information, oftentimes let the information absorb her. She had become very curious about Hyrulean politics, and it made sense that she would; she only knew of godly workings in the abstract, and the city was her entire world. Perhaps it would've been better, Impa thought, to have moved away from humanity, to live, perhaps, with Saria in the Kokiri village up north. But that would do no good. Saria was too indulgent, too easily swayed by mortal minds.

There were other sages, but after how Saria's constant interaction with Link and desire to give him freedom had ended in his downfall, she was reluctant to let any other sage touch her finely crafted child. Besides, perhaps the only one she would really trust was Rauru, who, while living under the identity of Iskao, had already been helping to look after the child in her small village. He had been killed in the Lizalfos attack. He could have easily defended against the assault, but, Impa guessed, his cynicism of the goddesses' efforts to quell evil had surpassed his overwhelming desire to serve human needs and to bring the obscurity of the abstract into the light of the mundane, and he had become nihilistic. Suicidal. Tired of the world's hopeless antics and ready to see what lay beyond. Impa still believed there was some sense to be made out of the nonsense, so she remained intact in body, mind, and heavenly spirit. And she believed the task of raising this girl to be capable of the feats of her brother in his previous incarnations was hers to complete.

Aryll, now become disenthralled with the commotion outside, had retreated to books, and had only a vague idea of the existence of the other sages, having experienced no contact with them. What motive kept her going, Impa did not know; perhaps it was the human weakness Impa so despised that drove Aryll to learn and serve. But she was not yet a servant of the goddess, only a servant of Castle Town, and of Impa, and of her own desires. Her desires were simple, ascetic even.

The book she read was Gravity and its Theory by Malgorg, a Goron scientist who had fought in the Lizalfos War, specifically the destruction of the main thoroughfare within Death Mountain. The volume described equations that Malgorg had derived based on his extensive observation of Goron machines. It didn't seem particularly interesting, but Aryll read it to pass the time. The introduction read thus:

 _Few have questioned the force that binds us to the Earth. To most, solid ground is an unwavering truth, and to the remainder, the fear exists that one day the direction in which they are pulled will be reversed and they will go tumbling into the sky, or that the sky itself will fall. Fear no more, you masters of questioning and speculation, for in the Goron way, I have investigated the natural gravity of the Earth and revealed its properties._

 _Indeed, there is a reason some things are perceived as heavier or lighter than others, and it is quite intuitive, perhaps even as intuitive as the apparent physical working of heaviness itself; see, dear readers, that every body of matter has its own gravitational force, and pulls other matter to it. This force may be weak, or strong, and the stronger it is, the heavier one object will become to another as they are pulled together._

It was, needless to say, rather long-winded, and the information within seemed impractical, given that Ayrll already had an intuitive understanding of gravity just by living amongst it for seventeen years. However, Aryll did appreciate one aspect of it, namely, the personal tone that seemed address her as an individual. She could picture the bulbous Goron speaking to her in friendly tones and earnest curiosity as he elaborated on the matters that were, to him, most interesting; and through his interest, Aryll was interested.

She read about a quarter of the book that day before realizing the streets were clear. Curiously, she peered outside into the silent void that was the city after a riot. "Impa?" she asked.

"Yes, child?"

"The streets are clear; if it pleases you, I'd like to take a closer look at the aftermath."

Impa remained silent for a couple seconds as Aryll looked at her patiently. "Go," she eventually stated impassionately. Pleased, the girl stood from her chair and started cautiously out the door. She passed through the garden, her fingers bleeding with magic that fed the hungry vegetables. Beams suddenly broke out and touched her face as she emerged from between the two buildings that kept the cottage cloaked, the sun pale and cold and the street flooded with a stark gray light. Around her, on the cobblestone street, lay the damage: broken glass, bent swords, the usual nick knacks that decorated Hyrule's roads these days. To Aryll's relief, there weren't any bodies, at least that she could see. There had been a corpse one time-and she nearly vomited on the spot, the sight disturbed her so much. The head had been bloodied by an arrow, the hair matted with red. Aryll had immediately rushed back to Impa's cottage and wept, much to Impa's dismay. "It's alright, child. Do not let this be any more disturbing to you than the casualties you cannot see."

She walked toward the castle, staying wary and guarded in case there was an enraged citizen nearby who hadn't quite finished expressing one's anger. She encountered no trouble, and the sights were certainly interesting. There were painted messages scrawled on the walls of buildings. Some of them were detailed and sensical, usually written in smaller letters: "How can Semak provide for his nation when he is away, fighting for Nabooru?" Others were simple and degrading, larger and therefore most seen: "Down with royalty." This experience was the main source of her political information, as she was never permitted to listen to the speeches of the king's court. Continuing toward the castle, she saw that several homes had been targeted and burned, supposedly those which belonged to supporters of current leadership, but there was definitely collateral damage, despite the clear prejudice. Many were standing outside their homes, counting their remaining belongings despairingly or simply staring with hopeless remorse. As if they could have done anything to prevent it.

One house was still burning, flames leaping out of windows as the blackened stone surrounding quivered in the distortion of light. A man was panicking outside, tugging at his hair and tearing his clothes, pounding on the door. Aryll moved in closer. "Riku! Riku, please! Talk to me!" By his wavering voice, Aryll could tell he was crying. He ran suddenly away from the house, belting out a final distress cry: "My wife is in that house! She burns as we speak! Please . . . please . . ." He fell to his knees. Calmly, Aryll closed her eyes.

She saw little lights dancing, frolicking whimsically. If she could just catch one, two, three, she could do what she needed. She softened her mind and let one of the pebbles land in its cushion, repeated with two more. She hardened it again, and as she did she felt her energy drain. She took a deep breath and ignored the other pebbles as they bounced off her brain, walking forward toward the flaming house, feeling the heat on her face.

She made tiny tunnels in her mind, little pipes through which the berries of colorful plasma could flow. She felt the hard solid of their surface, so stable in form while speedy, turn liquid and seep through the cracks and cling to the outermost edges of her mind. Feeling them skim about there, she imagined a thin, yet tough, barrier, a durable sheet to enshrine her and protect her from the heat. The layer of energy evaporated and transformed into the thing she had imagined. Having done this, she opened her eyes and found that she had reached the burning house.

The man behind her watched in shock and wonder as she opened the door and disappeared inside amidst the flames, thinking she must be insane or suicidal. But how could he ever have predicted the use of magic in such a mundane world as the Lanayru province, with its cities and hearts of stone? Meanwhile, inside, Aryll moved slowly, since if she focused her energies on her physical movement, she knew her concentration would be lost and the barrier would break. Every sensation was diminished while using magic, causing her to worry briefly about burning and not realizing it as, despite her shield, it was still painfully hot. The barrier fluttered as the concern crossed her mind, and she had to stop in her tracks and close her eyes to make sure it didn't fade. Stable once again, she continued until she saw a living form in front of her, writhing in the fire, hardly recognizable as human, but still alive. Aryll reached out and touched this thing, and when she did, it was surrounded by the barrier.

The creature, unknowing of its new protection, continued to panic, bellowing as it commenced with its ritual death throes. "Hey, calm down. It's okay," Aryll muttered, taking its hand. It recoiled in pain and opened one blue eye, the other taken by the fire. "I'm here to rescue you. Be thankful you're alive." Singular eye wide with fear, the apparent Riku stopped her yelling, and Aryll examined her body. It was burnt beyond recognition of human skin, turned into a red and black mass of flesh. Delicately as possible-though not too much so, as her power was fading-Aryll hoisted the burned woman onto her back and trudged through the ruins once more, untouched by flames. With the door in sight, she began to run and immediately regretted it. Her barrier disappeared.

Frantically, she sprinted toward the door and pushed it open, her backside in flames. She let the burnt figure fall and began to roll about on the ground, the stones not doing much to put the fire out. Eventually, it died, and she examined the back of her dress over her shoulder, just thankful that the burns to her skin were only minor and the damage to her corset severe. She turned around to see the man cradling his now unconscious and possibly dead wife. She felt a pang in her heart for the couple, and also, quite strangely, a twinge of jealousy; she coveted how the man spoke softly to the woman and wept over her body in a way that Impa never would with Aryll. Exhausted from her heavy use of magic, she gave into the emotion, and, falling on her knees, wept herself. Of the most valuable things she had seen in her adventures was the overt display of emotion that was forbidden in her house by an unspoken rule, and it touched her like nothing else did.

The woman's one eye opened, causing Aryll to hold her breath as events unfolded. She reached up to touch the man's jawbone with her frail hand, shaking all the while. Aryll thought she mouthed something, but that might have been an illusion. She couldn't imagine the burn victim had any energy to speak. The man stood up, laying her to rest briefly, to come to where Aryll kneeled. "You," he said tentatively, his head shaking in disbelief. "I am indebted to you forever. Just say the word and . . . and I'll give you anything you want that's within my power to give." He fell to his knees, looked her in the eyes.

She smiled, was tempted to touch his face as his wife had. "Riku is her name?" He nodded. "She needs extensive healing, and I know someone who can give her the kind of treatment she needs. Carry her and follow me."

"Of course." He went back to his wife, lifted her tenderly, and looked to Aryll. "Where are we headed?" Aryll led the way to Impa's cottage, again passing the sights which now seemed not interesting to her, but disturbing parodies of the pain the people truly suffered to allow this sort of protest. On the way, they passed a squad of guards. One had blood on the end of his halberd. He looked shellshocked. As Aryll turned the corner to enter the alleyway where lay the cottage, the man gave her a strange look. To others, by magical means or sheer elusive placement, the house was nigh on invisible; but when others saw it, they always had the same reaction: "It's like something out of a dream, or out of old Hyrule, a simpler time."

"I know," Aryll replied. As she was instructed, she knocked on the door to indicate that there were visitors. The red-eyed woman looked suspiciously out the window and confirmed that the guests were no threat. Aryll thought she even saw a flash of curiosity, or perhaps concern. One of Impa's aged, enigmatic emotions had struck her face. When she opened the door, the man gawked at her appearance: her soft, round features and her large crimson eyes, as well as straight white hair that tumbled down and gleamed in the minimal light. She was beautiful in a spiritual kind of way.

"Who are these?" she asked.

"This is . . ." Aryll scrambled for a name.

"Magnus," he provided.

"Yes, this is Magnus, and his wife, Riku. She's been badly burnt; I rescued her from a fire using magic."

"Magic?" Impa inquired. "What sort?"

"Only a simple shield. It was nothing." She was lying. The shield had drained her and left her a withered, tired mess. She hated to admit that she was so weak in magic, while Impa was so strong. A thousand years' difference in practice had caused this difference. Aryll resented Impa's aversion to the outside world. She could do so much for this city and its people. The numerous other citizens who were, doubtless, burnt in fires were now dead because of the woman's complacency-in her unwavering belief in natural processes, including death, save for when her assistance was directly requested, as it was now.

Impa gave them a last glance before standing aside. "Enough talk. Come inside. She needs healing."


	2. Chapter 2

Aryll expediently removed everything from the top of the table that rested in the center of the cottage to make room for the burned Riku. Impa and Magnus carefully handled the body, lowering it onto the surface as Aryll put down a clean blanket. The one blue eye was closed now, perhaps in pain; but there was still feeble, jagged breathing, the only definite sign of life. "The burn covers nearly all of her body," Impa said dryly, "and the majority of fluids are gone. She should be dead." She cupped her hands, focusing intensely onto a little ball of light that accumulated there as Magnus watched in awe. "Here," Impa said, handing the ball to Magnus. "Put this down her throat. It should help with her breathing, and with her fluids."

She turned away and went to fetch medicines from the cabinets, but Magnus was rigid, confused as to why he should put something that felt semi-solid in his hands down his wife's throat. It was a rather uncomfortable order. He turned helplessly to Impa. "I'll do it," she said calmly. She took the orb from his hands and gently pushed it, with one finger, down into Riku's windpipe.

"I don't hear her breathing," Magnus said, concerned.

"Of course you don't. It's steadier now, aided by the oxygen filter. Don't be worried." She snatched a bottle of alcohol and soft, sterile gloves from the medicine cabinet. "Here, Aryll," she started. "Apply this everywhere you can. She's had a lot of contact with unclean things and will have rampant infections if not treated immediately." Aryll stared at the bottle, then at Riku. She wasn't looking forward to dealing out such pain, even if it was necessary. "You think all her writhing and yelling was due to pain?" Impa inquired, accurately reading the expression on Aryll's face. She nodded. "Of course not," Impa countered, nearly laughing. "All her nerve endings are gone. She won't feel a thing. Everything you see is a product of panic."

Aryll was even more disturbed by this prospect. A creature with no sense of touch. Perhaps no senses were intact. She was tempted to pull back the lid on that single, bloodshot blue eye to see if it could really still perceive anything. She resisted the urge and rubbed the alcohol everywhere she could, not able to push the idea out of her mind that the creature before her was in morbid pain.

Meanwhile, Impa fetched a roll of cloth from the cabinet and handed Magnus a pair of gloves as well. "Lift her leg," she ordered. Magnus did so, and Impa began to wrap it in cloth, and with the help of her two assistants, Riku was soon a mummified corpse, inactive but preserved, and still bearing a soul. Great relief showed on Magnus's face, but so did great concern.

"Will she ever be the same?"

"Sadly, no," Impa said. "She can barely hear and see, and cannot taste, smell, or feel. Also, the shock will stay with her for the rest of her life, and she will not be able to walk or speak again. As much as I would like to tell you otherwise, this is the way it is. Nonetheless, I suggest you care for her, as I imagine, given your disposition to care for her in the face of near hopelessness, you'd rather have her in this sorry state than you would give her up."

"This is true," Magnus said. "But there must be a way to at least communicate with her."

"I could link your psyches. You could communicate telepathically.

Magnus's eyes went wide. The thought excited him. "Oh, yes. Yes, please do that."

"Then it is done." The man twitched, his face contorting as he felt his wife's thoughts mingle with his own. "It takes some getting used to," Impa assured him. "Eventually, you'll be able to share your thoughts in a controlled manner. I've had such a link before, so I can teach you, though slowly, how to regulate which thoughts come through." Magnus was listening. "Imagine a line, a string, connecting you and Riku. Now imagine two separate brains within your head, one connected to the line, and one detached. Center your thoughts that you want to share in the brain with the line, and the ones that you do not in the one detached."

"Does Riku need to know this, too?"

"It's likely she already does. In your uncontrolled state of connection, everything I said and was processed by your mind was passed to hers, too. Everything you perceive is hers to perceive. If you try carefully, you can see the world as she does, in its hazy, numb, barely present state." Magnus closed his eyes, trying to absorb himself in his wife's thoughts. He could soon feel nothing, just a vague throbbing where he expected to feel the sensations of her limbs. A misty red glow came in through one eye, and through the other, nothing. Sound was but a muffled hum. "Disturbing, is it not?" Magnus nodded. "What is she thinking?"

"She is strangely . . ." He could barely get the words out. "She's strangely contented, I think, and thankful. Gods, she thinks she's going to die. And she's grateful for the relief and for the care . . . the care we've given her in her last moments. It's horrid. Oh, god, I don't want to hear any more of this."

"You don't have to," Impa said. "Just focus on the detached brain, your private mind."

He struggled to do so as Aryll retreated from the situation to, as she often did, bury herself in books. Now that Riku was in stable condition, she was exhausted, and she felt unhelpful as Magnus tried to grasp his new power. Once again, she opened _Gravity and its Theory_. The struggling husband disappeared and the amiable Goron appeared.

 _The Gorons' magic is generated by two primary uses of the magma below our cities: both involve turbines, in one case turned by steam from large vats of water that the magma slowly causes to evaporate, and in the other turned by the magma directly. Neither is the creation of energy, as is used in the magic of the goddesses, nor is it the collection and redispersion of the residual byproduct of conscious thought, as is used in Hylian magic. Rather, we use what is known as the "potential energy" stored within this universe. One way to build up potential energy is to resist gravity; this is put into practical use as we capture the energy of the downhill flow of magma._

Aryll found the differentiation between the various types of magic interesting. It was only now that she was learning that the Gorons' magic was not passed through any sort of consciousness at all. But how was that possible? What sort of magic could be generated by one inanimate object acting unknowingly on another? She knew, of course, that there were all sorts of subtle magic passed among natural forces, but she never knew that they could be directly, physically captured by sentient beings without the use of the mind. The accumulation of this magical power seemed to happen within the turbines, triggered by their turning.

"Impa?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"How do the Goron turbines work? How is their magic generated?"

Impa turned around, surprised. "You've never been one to take an interest in the fundamental workings of magic. But I'm pleased that you're becoming more intrigued by your studies. Is this something from that book of yours?"

"Yes. Malgorg was explaining how the Gorons extract the natural magic of the motion of matter to fuel their machines. Apparently, the turning of the turbines is what generates the power, but what causes it to be so? Are they . . . are the turbines . . . conscious?"

Impa laughed. "Of course not. The turbines have magically charged rods that turn, and with each revolution, attract and repel alternately the particles in a nearby wire. This back-and-forth motion of the particles generates what the Gorons call an electric current. At the time your book was written, this was well-known among the Gorons, while all that needed explaining is the theoretical motion of energy, the transfer of potential energy to kinetic energy and back to potential. That's Malgorg's book on gravity, is it not?" Aryll nodded. "That's an excellent read; essential, even, for a wielder of magic such as yourself. I really should have schooled you better in magical theory."

Aryll felt a strange pang of guilt at this, then an opposing pang of resentment as she realized that her lack of knowledge in this area was Impa's fault alone, and that it was, by her own-if unintentional-choice that she was now exploring magical theory to supplement her practice. She picked the book up again and hid herself from Impa's view.

"You're pretty competent with magic, then?" Magnus asked Impa innocently.

"Yes, you could say that," Impa replied, almost haughtily.

"Surely you're not . . ." he trailed off.

She grinned. "What would it matter if I were? It's nothing wrong to exploit the patronage of Ahriman." Aryll was torn out of the book at the name of the wicked goddess that seduced her brother and fed off his compassion, deterring him from his mission and taking him under her wing, a divine tool for a divine hand. "If I kill beasts of the wild purely for the power, and put it to good use, I am no worse morally than he who kills an animal for the taste of its flesh. All that Ahriman gets in return is the pleasure of seeing destruction by her invented-and, as I understand it, widely spread-method."

"You didn't answer my question, though," he said. "Are you a necromancer or are you not?"

"I'm not," she assured him. "I'm a tutor. I teach magic, and Aryll is a student of mine." It was not untrue, thought Aryll. But Impa was so much more than that. She was a sage, one of the seven mortals that the goddesses granted immortality that they might watch over and bring peace to Hyrule. It was under their gazes that a hundred Links had killed a hundred Ganondorfs in the constant effort to prevent the spread of Demise's influence. The demon god's remaining consciousness had taken on the mortal form of Ganondorf hundreds of years after the initial Link had killed Demise. The hero was designed at birth by the goddesses for this explicit purpose, and had established a pattern of reincarnation as had Ganondorf while the war between the two raged over the years. Aryll always felt a little nauseated to think that her brother was the hero of old in a different body, and that he had failed and passed his task to her.

Why her specifically? She was only his sister, after all, and there were plenty of people more qualified. Impa had said it herself many times, much to Aryll's dismay. The only reason, Impa had explained once, was the slim chance that, being conceived alongside Link, she had gained a small fragment of the Triforce of Courage, which was the source of Link's power. The Triforce was the creation of the Golden Goddesses, that whomever possessed all three pieces would have the ultimate power of the goddesses. It had originally been stored away for the most dire of circumstances, so that a mortal could assist the goddesses in completing the tasks that they could not, such as, as it so happened, the annihilation of another deity. The necessity of Demise's destruction presented ample grounds, in the goddesses' opinion, to create a being worthy of wielding the Triforce, namely Link. But, despite the immortality of Link's soul, his body was still mortal, as was necessary if he was to take down Demise. Therefore, he died, and the Triforce was stored away until the next incarnation, and so it continued.

The birth of Ganondorf had taken the goddesses much by surprise. They had known that Demise would attempt to preserve his soul in mortal form, just as the goddesses had sent Hylia to Earth in the form of Zelda to assist Link. However, they never could have guessed how overflowing, absolutely brimming with magic the Gerudo king would be. His presence made the sages a necessity, as they could more directly assist in matters concerning Ganondorf than the goddesses could, as though they could have easily smitten any other mortal, Demise's creation had quickly and craftily armored himself and made himself into a magical superweapon. One of the critical components necessary to Ganondorf's destruction was the Master Sword, the blade of pure light that the original Link had forged to take down Demise, and none of the sages were pure of foul intentions, of Demise's influence, so they could not wield it. However, more often than Link had managed to kill Ganondorf, they had contained and disabled him.

But on the occasion that Link did kill Ganondorf, the sages and the goddesses had noticed that the marauder had returned more quickly every time, and more unstable in his magic. Eventually, they noted, his mortal form would burst as the spirit the original Link shattered would become whole again. All it took was a swipe of king Semak's knife to Ganondorf's throat and, all the sages knew, the god-incubator Ganondorf was gone for good, Demise ready to emerge again. "Everyone of any significance," Impa had told Aryll after a few years of living with her, "will feel his return. Until then, we must prepare for the worst, for the evil deities, Demise and Ahriman, have no qualms about direct interaction with the mortals of this world-or their destruction. We will be at their whim, and only the combination of Triforce and Master Sword will be enough to bring him down."

"Master Sword?" Aryll had wondered. "But one has to be morally perfect in the eyes of the goddesses to wield it, am I right? Cleansed of all dark thought and action."

"You will not wield the sword yourself. I am hoping Zelda will, as she is an incarnation of the goddess Hylia, and thus her soul must be pure."

"But that would entail her not being able to do any wrong," Aryll protested.

"Exactly."

"How is that possible? What of the political mistakes she's made as a princess, in the days before her mission? And you told me she had gone, on Saria's order, in search of the Master Sword, and found it, but as soon as she found it, all connection between you and her was lost, and she hasn't been seen since. It sounds an awful lot like-"

"No," Impa quickly interrupted. "Zelda's soul is pure. It was Link's soul that was corrupted over the course of several incarnations. And when the goddesses realized this, they noticed that, since he held the Master Sword, the sword must have tolerated corruption and thus been impure itself. They purified it in heavenly fires and set it in a more . . . defended place that even Zelda found it difficult to penetrate. But there is no chance her heavenly soul might have been ruined. She is a goddess. She is Hylia."

"Then what other explanation do you have to offer for Zelda's sudden disappearance?"

"It must have been a fault within myself," Impa said wistfully. "It must have been the impurity of my soul that severed our connection. Eventually, we will see her again. As you bear the remaining piece of the Triforce of Courage, and Zelda bears the Triforce of Wisdom and the Master Sword, it is necessary that you find her if you are to destroy Demise."

Aryll's eyes widened. "But even if she is still alive, she could be anywhere in Hyrule. My journey would be a blind one."

"So was Link's. He was blind to the threat of Ahriman, who had before been content to stand aside and revel in the power she already had. Would you like to know what triggered her change of heart? Be warned; it might disturb you." Aryll nodded tentatively. "Very well. Your brother, you see, is only half-human. At conception, it was necessary, given his original, flawed mortal state, that he be spiritually removed from all his darkness. This caused a divide, and twins were born instead of a single child. Link's caretakers were assigned the task of determining which was the pure Link and which was the corrupt one. It was an easy task. The pure infant was silent, still, and cooperative as ever, while the corrupt infant was just the opposite; he was killed immediately." Aryll's face blanched. "Don't look so disgusted. You know I'm opposed to any sort of euphemism. It's true. They disposed of the inconvenient child in the most efficient way possible. But just as Link had to reincarnate, so did his darker version. From what dark pit he came, nobody knows, but with every instance of Link, there was a darker one lurking in the shadows. He was always there, unseen, and known by nobody but the sages and goddesses.

"When Ahriman discovered the current incarnation of what we call Dark Link, for lack of a better name, she lusted after him; here was a marginalized creature of pure darkness like herself, that she could at once empathize with and prey upon. But as Link grew increasingly corrupt over the generations, Dark Link became less so, and strayed away from Ahriman and towards Link, his brother."

"But, Impa," Aryll interjected, "if Ahriman was capable of loving Dark Link, and empathizing with him, was that entirely unhealthy for anyone?"

"No, that the relationship was detrimental is not what I'm implying at all," Impa said, annoyed at Aryll's hasty interpretation of her perceived bias. "It was better that they remain in such a state, for if they had, Ahriman would never have committed the crimes of which I am about to tell you. See, after Dark Link joined Link, he turned the hero's mind to dark thoughts, to a better understanding of anger, and hatred, and corruption, and therefore, sadly, more tolerance towards it. He became more vulnerable to it. Ahriman, enraged at the loss of her prized mortal possession, began committing direct mass slaughter for no other purpose than to fulfill her rage. And, when she regained Dark Link's favor, the poor, manipulated soul attacked Link on her command. But Link overpowered him and killed him. Then, desperate, she went to Link to try to turn him into the being of darkness that she knew. And succeeded. Link now follows her like a trained dog, the instrument of her desires. The only reason we don't see Ahriman's destructive influence in such immediacy today is the retreat she made with Link into the Twilight Realm, the space between life and death, through which she seeks to observe, and perhaps retrieve, Dark Link, with whom she was initially so enamored."

Aryll waited for Impa to continue, but she didn't. Sitting on a carpet on the floor of Impa's cottage, the fireplace setting a red glow sprawling across the room, the story had become vivid, as stories tend to do in the serene late nights, and Aryll found herself, despite the minimal knowledge Impa had given her, invested in and highly empathetic towards these characters of her past-and her future. Despite the wrongs Ahriman had committed against Link, Aryll found herself sympathetic to her sorry condition. Impa had called her "marginalized" as a simple truth, a fact of nature, without intending to imply any weakness of deservance of mercy. But to Aryll, that word was all, the very cause of Ahriman's drive to destruction. And Aryll believed that, if she could somehow reverse it, Ahriman could be saved.

"I can hear you thinking, child. Your mouth may be closed, but you are anything but silent. And I know what you must feel toward Ahriman, after what I told you. But it is not true. Ahriman is a force of pure evil, the very essence of the visceral desires that drive us ever closer to death. She is an outright, perverse manipulator, and if you let yourself foster the thoughts you do, she will see them, and she will take advantage of them. This is just what happened with Link." She said this last part with harsh emphasis, and Aryll hung her head, ashamed. "Don't do that, now," Impa continued, more softly. "It's not your fault that you feel such things. It is something you learn to overcome, over time."

Aryll did not want to overcome it. Her feelings, her curiosity about life of all sorts and of sentience, was what drove her to learn, to explore, to investigate. From this pure desire to know and serve stemmed her ardent political fascination, not necessarily from her feelings of being trapped within Hyrule's political turmoil and being powerless against it, as Impa assumed, although the hardened mentor wasn't entirely wrong about these thoughts tugging at her consciousness from time to time. But her every move, really-or so she perceived herself-was an unfailing curiosity and compassion. It was what drove her to return to those city streets that were such a danger to her body and mind, what compelled her to rescue a woman from a burning house, what encouraged her to not settle for a rescue only, but to bring the burned woman and her distraught husband into her home.

She felt resentment for Impa's total disregard of her true nature boil up within her as she observed this couple, Magnus bent over Riku and the tears welling in his eyes as they exchanged silent thoughts. He slowly nuzzled his face into the mass of bandages, unaware of other eyes upon him. Aryll, embarrassed and not wishing to violate his private moments, turned away, blushing. She opened her book again, closed it, and went into the kitchen looking for something to eat; not out of hunger, but out of a need for movement.

Meanwhile, Impa heard another knock at the door. She peered out the window and spied a young, but tanned and scarred, face; a gleaming silver helmet and matching armor; long, wavy hair, starting to gray already despite the subject's youthful age. "No, not now," Impa said under her breath. "You always have to come at the most inconvenient times." Nevertheless, she opened the door, the figure quite upright and serious before her. "I assume you have news on the movement of Semak and Nabooru."

"Nabooru would like to see you," Aola confirmed, her right hand on her sword, her buckler strapped to her left arm and crossed over the right, in front of her belt, in the traditional fashion of Hyrulean officers. "As of yet, you've done nothing to contribute to the sages' efforts toward the war in the east, and you could play a vital role."

"Listen, Aola," Impa said sternly. She had known this girl since she was Aryll's age. And while she offered her the kindness and hospitality she deserved, she treated her as she would treat any military officer when she was tending to her duties: matter-of-fact, and unwilling to compromise. "The war is only a hopeless continuation of the Lizalfos war that ended years ago, and therefore, I refuse to assist. The Gerudo rebels could revive their god at any time, and the only reason they have not done so yet is their advantage over us in warfare. Because we take such an offensive stance and do so little damage to their ranks, they know that they can keep us in a constant state of urgency because of their ability to produce a superweapon. The only chance of victory for us is the capture of Ganondorf's old fortress, where they reside, with the defensive high-ground. While we continue to attack them there, they eat at our forces, slowly destroying us. Why can't Nabooru see this? Why does she keep demanding assistance from me?"

"Then answer her summons. Discuss this with her personally."

"I have, but she wouldn't listen. Eventually, I cut off communications with her because she wouldn't let the issue go. Now, if you'll excuse me, I desire privacy. I'm trying to help someone who was injured in the riot today, so unless you can offer anything to us, I suggest you go." She prepared to shut the door, but Aola took off her helmet and looked pleadingly at Impa. "What is this, now?"

Aola looked at her feet. "If you could allow me to become human, ever briefly, and grant me solace in your household . . ." She was referring to Impa's initial discouragement when Aola had first expressed a desire to join king Semak's, her father's, army. Impa had told her that to ascend past base human desires is to shed the cocoon of humanity and live among the goddesses, but to serve and obey greater human forces, such as that of a king, was to shed one's humanity prematurely, and to become an instrument, a machine, given into the power of others while maintaining one's belief in one's own power. Despite this, Aola decided to join the Hylian army. She had said, "It's the only connection I have to my father, now a solemn and unfeeling king. I respect him and want to follow in his footsteps. I know you scorn all forms of tradition, but the notion that I could contribute to the salvation of Hyrule, if only by a marginal amount, is a comfort for me, as well as the only way I know how to serve Hyrule and gain my father's respect."

As Impa understood Aola's implied message, the girl standing on the doorstep, her war-weary face downturned and her helmet at her side, she wondered if perhaps Aola ever thought about Link, and what her perspective was on the . . . traitor? Victim? What to call an ally turned adversary due to forces far beyond his control?


	3. Chapter 3

Aryll perked up at the sound of Aola's voice at the door, but at the same time felt a small sinking sensation within her, a stone that settled in her stomach heavily; her childhood friend and role model's voice was not touched with vibrance and optimism as it had been years ago; not that it was any surprise, as she had felt the same disappointment with no relief every time Aola showed up at the door. The voice was cold, calm and commanding, a voice appropriate for the role military officer she now occupied. Aryll heard Impa answer back, her voice almost . . . hostile? The topic, of course, was Nabooru and her war against rebel Gerudo forces, supporters of Ganondorf, a matter about which Aryll was tired of hearing. She had to agree with Impa on this one: countless attacks on a nearly impenetrable fortress was just a waste of lives.

But then again, she could never be sure. Nabooru was, if Aola's words had any truth to them, just as old and wise as Impa was, and a lot more sympathetic to the individual. If she thought the losses she and Semak suffered were worth the chance of preventing Demise's rise to power, then Aryll, and Impa, might be mistaken.

Aryll then heard Aola mumble something to Impa alone; she was unable to make out what it was, but it was more solemn and more emotional-almost ashamed. Impa's voice became soft and welcoming, and the door shut. Aryll returned to the living room, where the five of them gathered in silence as Aola first laid eyes upon Magnus and Riku. "What happened here?" she inquired quietly.

"She was burned during one of the riots," Impa explained. "As I hear, she was inside a burning house and Aryll rescued her. She did it using defensive magic. She's learning at a faster pace now, and seems to have taken a deeper interest in her studies."

Aola smiled wanly and turned to Aryll. "Did you do this of your own initiative?"

"Yes. I saw someone in need and decided to act on it," she confirmed.

"I called for help. To whom, specifically, I know not," Magnus added, letting go of his wife's hand, briefly. "She was there to answer me. Honestly, I thought that was the end of it for Riku, but thanks to your skill and goodwill . . ." He trailed off, turning to his wife and kneeling to her again. Tears formed in his eyes.

"I set up a psychic connection between the two so that they could speak. Most of Riku's faculties are gone, so this is likely the only coherent communication she'll have with the outside world." Aola observed the body sadly, her hands folded in front of her as if in prayer. "Healing her completely is not in my power."

"Not in your power?" Aryll started. "Impa, I was under the impression it was impossible."

"I didn't say it was possible, either," Impa muttered.

"Then tell me: is it? Or might it be?"

"You don't have time to seek out a solution, and those who would have the power to heal her would be hypocrites to dedicate such time and energy on one individual when they have much larger-scale matters to attend to." Aryll fixed her with a resentful glare. "Don't give me that look. You know it's true. It's the duty of the mundane to tend to the mundane, and our duty to set universal forces straight."

Aola gave Impa a quizzical glance. "So you could be bothered to take these people into your home, but you won't let Aryll seek further assistance? Don't tell me this is about your dispute with Saria over Link."

"I will admit I am biased and would rather not ask a favor of her, nor would I like to be forced into enlisting the help of Nabooru." She looked as if she had tasted something bitter. How have I, she wondered, become so callous, and yet so malleable by my own bias? "But they would both be able to heal Riku. However, delivering Riku to either would be the task of Magnus, as the two of you have other duties."

"A task that I would complete happily," Magnus said.

"Or," Aola suggested, "I could bring her to Nabooru. I am to travel straight back to the desert when I am finished here, firstly with your persuasion, after which I would take you with me, and secondly with some soldiers who have been making repeated offences against citizens, employing inhumane methods of crowd control. If you could keep her just a few more hours, or perhaps a day, I could deliver her and Magnus wouldn't have to travel outside the city."

Magnus let go of Riku's hand. "But I imagine this would slow you down. I have a horse, and I know how to reach the city where Nabooru makes her home. My only concern is whether or not I'd be welcome."

"You do realize you'd be travelling through a war zone," Aryll noted.

"Yes, and I'm not unfamiliar with war. I'm a mercenary, a sellsword. I've not had any work since I married Riku a year ago, but I've not quit training, either. And so long she's supported the two of us financially; I'd gladly take up the opportunity to support her in her dwindling health."

"Wouldn't any good spouse?" Aryll said. "However, you'll not be able to be, perhaps, as mobile with Riku behind you on the horse. You won't be able to ride quickly nearly at all without risk of hurting Riku, and if you encounter any resistance, just imagine what trouble it will be to fend off enemies as well as protect your wife. Aola, on the other hand, will, if I understand her route, rendezvous with a small regiment of soldiers at Kakiriko village, and therefore will be able to offer more protection to Riku."

Aola considered her own options. "This is a matter of grave importance; the life of a civilian is at stake and the only thing preventing her from getting treatment is the war. Yes, taking Riku, feeding her, and nurturing her will slow me down significantly, but if we wish to ensure her safety, I feel that is our only reasonable option. I can notify the soldiers of my passenger, and my expected delay."

"With what?" Magnus asked tentatively? "You're miles away."

Aola took a small stone out of her pocket, one side smooth and gemlike, and the other coarse. "This is a seeing stone. An invention of the Gorons'. Have you never seen one?"

"No, but if I had known of its existence, I would've sought one immediately."

"They're not sold here in Castle Town, but if we both go to deliver Riku to Nabooru, we'll pass Goron territory, where they abound. In fact, that may be the wisest option. We'll have more protection on the road that way, travelling together. How experienced are you as a mercenary?"

"I'm not proud of it these days, but I fought for ten years. I am thirty now, and wiser, and I see that it was not exactly a respectable profession, but it gained me the skills I need now; so what regrets can I have?"

Plenty, Aryll thought to herself; but she didn't judge him. She wondered what lives he might have taken, but given his now seemingly tender nature, she let the thought go. However, at the same time, she was interested. It was likely that Magnus had fought in the Lizalfos war on the Hylian side, and he probably had a number of good stories to tell. She imagined perhaps joining the two of them, Aola and Magnus, but didn't know what purpose she would serve. Riku was in stable condition, and more magical healing would likely not be necessary as long as she was provided with plenty of water and fresh bandages from time to time. But, she considered, if anything went ary, she would be handy. She decided to speak up. "If you don't mind me asking," she started, "would you like a healer along on your journey? If anything happens to Riku, magic will be the easiest remedy."

"Sure," Aola said. These trips, for her, were casual, being a courier of sorts for Semak and Nabooru. "As long as you think you're prepared for such a journey. It'll be rough."

Aryll didn't like hearing Aola speak to her like this. She had always been just a childhood friend, someone older and wiser but close enough in age for Aryll to ally who took walks with her in the forest into territory that she, as a small girl, had believed were far removed from the village but in reality were not even a mile off. She had a fleeting memory return to her, a vision of herself and Aola crouched on a mossy rock. She was peeling the moss off with her nails, its wet scraggle clinging to her fingers as Aola looked on and laughed. The vision receded, and Aryll felt a sudden wave of nostalgia follow. She missed Aola, the down-to-Earth Aola that used to hold her hand and explain the world to her. This version had seen hardship, had split attention, not an only child in a secluded village whose only cares pertained to following her interests and uncovering what secrets the surrounding forest had to offer with her friends.

"I can handle it," she assured Aola.

"You are not going, child," Impa said sternly. "You would serve no purpose. Your place is here, until you are strong enough to know how to use your meager segment of the Triforce."

"Her what?" Magnus asked.

"It's magic. Don't bother asking," Aola said in a dismissive tone. She was, of course, only covering for Impa, who knew that Magnus wouldn't know the meaning of the Triforce anyway. Impa looked at Aola subtly, impressed. The girl had been with Link when he had first left home, and had watched him through his process of realizing his Triforce of Courage into fruition. She was aware of the power it bestowed upon one, the sign of being born with a segment: that such a person had either stolen it in a previous incarnation, as was the case with Ganondorf, or had been given it by the goddesses. Having a shard, as Aryll likely had, would not grant one nearly any of the universal power that having the full Triforce would, but it would allow one to penetrate the spiritual defenses of a being reinforced with many levels of magic, and to pass through certain barriers into other realms in which were stored artifacts such as the Master Sword. Aola knew quite well that, if Aryll ever set off to slay a risen Demise, she would accompany her at Impa's request that she might make sure the younger girl avoided the pitfalls into which Link fell, as well as gained control of the power of which she was now not even aware. The Hylian magic she used was disconnected from the greater magic of the Triforce; while Hylian magic gave her more control over her immediate environment, the Triforce caused the eyes of the Goddesses to keep her in their peripheral vision, so to speak.

"I may be strong enough; I just need to know how to use it," Aryll protested. "Everything I know about it has been rather vague."

"That's because it's a power you must discover. It is connected to a vast legacy of masterful heroes, and reveals itself only when one masters one's own body and mind. You are still fragile, to a certain extent, in these two areas."

"But if I'm not allowed to leave the city, how will I ever 'master' myself? Perhaps it shows its power under certain dire circumstances that I have yet to encounter, and I'll never know if you keep me in here."

Aola saw an long-awaited argument boiling to the surface. "Impa, I think that perhaps it'll be a good experience for Aryll. If it's danger you're worried about, you need not be. You have the swords of both Magnus and myself at her back."

Impa considered. Aryll was right about emergence of the Triforce in the face of mortal danger. It was, perhaps the quickest route to discovery of one's power over the Triforce, but it was a risky one. It made access to the Triforce dependent on a visceral, animalistic fear, the teeth of death around one's neck. And one would likely become arrogant and bombastic with the new power, driven manic by the rush of adrenaline brought about by the constant close calls. If Aryll were to try some foolhardy antic to try to summon her power and end up dead, Impa would be at a loss. The Triforce segment would bury itself deep within magical realms (unless, of course, the killer knew how to extract it, as did Ganondorf) and Impa wouldn't be able to retrieve it. Then, the remainder of the Triforce of Courage would be with Link, who had strayed from his path; the Triforce of Power would be lost with Ganondorf; and the Triforce of Wisdom would be with Zelda, who was missing.

The truth was, the Triforce of Courage was most effectively channeled when the wielder used this risky method, putting oneself on the line to get results, becoming viscerally self-sacrificing. If only Aryll had been born to Zelda's late mother and inherited a fragment of the Triforce of Wisdom instead, which could be summoned by meditation. The Triforce of Power would never do. Only those already granted a great degree of magical power, such as any of the sages, could use it without its effectiveness diminishing.

It seemed if Aryll was to unlock the power that would bring down the ancient enemy of the goddesses, it must be through her experience. But Impa just couldn't seem to accept it. Aryll's death, if it ever came to be, would be a major setback in Impa's already meager plan. Perhaps then, things would be as she was so inclined to call them when Link had first turned: hopeless. "I'm sorry. I need some time to think," Impa concluded, retreating to her room. She was strongly inclined to let Aryll go, but she knew she had to regain her bearings-Aola's arrival and the possible departure of Aryll had been rather unexpected, as had the incident with Riku-and she wanted to make sure her head was clear before she made a judgement.

"She's very protective of you," Magnus told Aryll once Impa was gone.

Aryll laughed. "You don't say? And so formal. When she enters the room, everyone stands up a little straighter; did you notice?" She evoked no response from him; he was still too wrapped up in his thoughts, and Riku's, to really enjoy her humor. "Anyway, I doubt she'll give her approval. She's very cautious about what happened seven years ago to my brother, and one of Aola's best friends."

"I'd advise against this," Aola warned. "Firstly, it's a long story; secondly, we don't want the details floating around."

"What harm could he do? He's just an honest husband-"

"And a sellsword. Who fought in the war. See, when I accompanied Link on his quest to subdue Ganondorf (which, to say the least, didn't happen on schedule), there was a group of supposed mercenaries that joined our party, and when we stopped in Kakiriko village, do you know what happened? They kidnapped Link in the night and killed members of our party. And do you know who led this brigand?"

Aryll knew this story. She hung her head. "Dark Link."

"Exactly. And I think it goes without saying who inspired him to commit these acts."

"False," Aryll countered. "He did it of his own will because he wanted to reveal his identity to Link, with whom he sought a closer connection."

"And he took unnecessary lives in the process."

"I'm not defending him. It just wasn't her bidding that he should kidnap Link. She only started gravitating toward Link when she lost Dark Link."

Magnus looked from one to the other in confusion. "I'm completely lost; should I stay that way?"

"Perhaps if we gain your trust, or decide the information is docile, we'll share the full story with you. Meanwhile, why don't you go home and pack what you need? We are to be off by tomorrow, at the latest, even if Impa hasn't finished micromanaging Aryll's life by then."

Aryll winced. "You know that we shouldn't anger her."

"I didn't say you would be coming with us. Although I might bring you along just to spite the sage. I know what you're going to say: that I'm being harsh and she's only trying to keep her plan failsafe, but in truth, it's never going to be risk-free. You're going to have to defend yourself, Aryll. And you can't master your magic, Triforce or otherwise, without putting it to use in the environment you'll need to face regardless."

"Wait," Aryll started. "Do you think it might be a tiny bit dangerous that Magnus knows that I . . ."

"It's too late to asses the danger of that now. He knows because Impa felt it was safe to reveal this to him. I've got your back, though; if he turns out to be untrustworthy, I'll protect you, and hopefully do . . . minimal damage to him."

Magnus scowled. "Look; I want to feel just as safe as you do. I'm not going to try to convince you of my trustworthiness, and personally, I don't care what you choose to share with me. But don't act like I'm going to thrust a knife into your backs at the earliest opportunity, okay? My only concern is my wife."

Aryll and Aola exchanged a glance. "I believe him," Aryll said. "What are the chances that this man I just happened upon in the streets is a spy?"

"True, but we must always be wary," Aola said.

"And, honestly, I don't blame you," Magnus added. "Still, please don't jump to conclusions."

Impa re-entered the room, her face grim. "You are not ready to enter a war zone, Aryll," she stated without further hesitation. Aryll's jaw dropped in anger. "It would be a brash and foolish move to send you into such a risky area, no matter how badly you want to uncover the full potential of your powers or experience the world for yourself."

Aola gave Aryll a glance as if to say, are you really going to buy into this?

Aryll could see Impa's logic, and she had similar fears, but this wouldn't stop her from going. With the number of trips Aola had made between Castle Town and the Arbiter's Grounds (Nabooru's fortress and the main haven of remaining loyal Gerudo), she trusted the officer's ability to defend the four who would be making the journey. Also, she wasn't entirely helpless in combat herself. She had easily incapacitated petty criminals before using small amounts of magic. She was certain that with hers, Aola's, and Magnus's combined skills, they would be fine.

"Impa, I know you're concerned about me, but-"

"Child, you possess a fragment of the Triforce! I can't stress this enough. You know that your piece is the only one whose location is known to not be lost or fallen into hands that would seek to destroy us." She grasped Aryll by the shoulders. "I will not permit you to leave. You underestimate who you are, what you can do!" She ran this statement through her mind to assess its validity, and with dismay, knew at once that she had uttered a lie. Aryll wasn't powerful; just a small beacon of hope to which Impa clung in morbid fear. She tried to correct herself. "I mean to say that you are the only chance we have at saving what's left of all that we know."

"It's fine if you choose not to say," Magnus started, "but I'm quite curious about what you mean; who are your enemies, and what is the Triforce?"

Impa pinned him with her crimson gaze. "It won't matter to you, as Aryll isn't accompanying you. Now, I suggest you head to the castle with Aola, as I'm not changing my mind and I've done all I can to treat Riku. And Aola:" the girl snapped to attention; "I'm sure you'll fare perfectly well on your own. Neither you nor Aryll would significantly benefit from her attendance on this . . . field trip."

Aola didn't want to argue with Impa. "Very well. I beg to differ; but you _are_ practically her mother."

"I have served such a role, and will continue to until Aryll's powers are brought into fruition." Impa turned around, beckoning for Aryll to follow her. "Now, go," she said, turning to look over her shoulder. "You have a duty to fulfill."

Aola shot Aryll another look. It was a look of mixed frustration and disappointment, a look that asked her why she wouldn't stand up for herself. Aola questioned Impa's totalitarian "parenting" heavily, and while Impa would always argue the same purpose-namely, Aryll's dormant power-Aola knew that this gave her no right to dictate what Aryll would do with her life. "This is a much larger matter than just a single person," Impa would say. "Here, we have the sister of the hero that was personally and painstakingly constructed by the goddesses for a single purpose. And while Aryll carries even a fraction of what he has, we must shape her talents and views appropriately that we will not let the same errors occur twice."

Aola knew that a life of seclusion and submission would not make Aryll a hero. Besides, she doubted that Aryll would ever fall into the sort of trap that Link did. True, she did carry many of the same flaws: she was trusting and merciful to the point of being gullible, but she wouldn't commit to anyone only because she promised to be open minded toward them. If she met a killer and offered them mercy, she would ensure this person would not slay again; and if they showed signs of doing so, she would not hesitate to exact preventative measures upon them. Kill them? Aola had yet to see. Incapacitate them? She had, and she would again; she was a reputed combatant of petty crime and hero of the people among the soldiers of Castle Town, an enigma of a sort. Aola wondered if Aryll had any idea that they were aware of her presence, of her subtle wave-making.

After saying brief goodbyes to Impa, Aryll, and Magnus, she left, Magnus following her, delicately cradling Riku in his muscular arms. Aola had offered, as she bid Impa and Aryll adieu, a temporary home for the couple in the Castle Town barracks, and they had agreed to stay there for the night. Impa and Aryll spent the rest of the night alone, and, in Impa's perception, in peace. Aryll, however, was not ready to give up the idea of escape and adventure so easily. Also, it would please her greatly to be reunited with Aola; besides, the soldier needed a friend. She was always so solemn these days. She had been ever since her best friend Dysor, also from back home, was killed. She had never gone into the details, but the experience had obviously changed her, and Aryll hoped there was some way to redeem her. That was seven years ago, and still, Aryll was certain that when in privacy, Aola mourned. "I feel sorry for her," Aryll said out loud.

"What was that?" Impa asked from another room.

"Aola needs a friend."

"How do you know she doesn't have any friends in the army?" She emerged into the living room, sitting down beside Aryll.

"I can tell she's very lonely. Can't you see it in her face? All I can think of when I see those deep brown eyes consists of two words: war torn. I think she wants me to accompany her on her journey for two reasons: firstly, because I could use the experience, and secondly, because she could use my help and companionship."

"I thought it was clear that my decision is final," Impa reiterated. "You're not going, for reasons of safety."

"Oh, I'm not still arguing that I should be allowed to. I'm just offering a possible explanation for, you know-"

"Remember, child, how you were the one who originally suggested that you go. Aola just presented an argument supporting yours out of her unfailing need for evaluation and objectivity. I've known her for longer than I've known you. She was younger than you are now when I first saw her, and now she is well into her twenties, and much more mature. You see this as a deep scarring; I say it is aging. She's experienced more of the pleasures and pains of life, and come out the person she is today."

"That's all aging really is," Aryll concluded. "It's a deep scarring."

"Perhaps," Impa agreed. "You miss my point, though: you're never going to get your friend back. It's as simple as that. She's a different person now." Aryll hung her head. "It'll only hurt you to pursue what is lost. Please, accept her for who she is today." She rose and left Aryll to brood over a book.


	4. Chapter 4

Aola led Magnus through the darkening city streets, sword at the ready; at this hour, and with such an easily exploited state of ruin, one had to be careful of malicious eyes lurking around every corner. When Semak left to fight in the Gerudo war, he had passed ruling duties to his most trusted general, Vothur, whom he believed was wise because of his natural avoidance of conflict; however, cities across Hyrule had started demanding reparations from their capital for engaging in a war that brought devastation everywhere, convinced wrongly that Castle Town had had a say in the matter against the newly united force of Lizalfos.

This caused Vothur to distribute frivolous sums of money without question in an effort to avoid civil war, thinking that the solution was only temporary, and that Semak's return would bring political peace to the turbulent nation; after all, Hyrule's king was wildly popular at the time, and complaints about him paying too much attention to foreign affairs were only beginning to form. The cities had become greedy and started demanding more, draining the castle's vault. Those who had survived reasonably, if homelessly, in the overpopulated city were left for dead, famished and filled with anger.

These were people who saw the government as their enemy, and though civilians were easier targets (and certainly, there were civilian victims), it was the soldiers that got the brunt of the blow; they were symbols of everything that the homeless hated, with their gleaming helmets and sharpened swords. Their pockets were often filled with rupees, for if there was one profession in Castle Town that could earn one a hardy living for minimal work, it was that of a soldier. It had become a vital need for the city to harbor a strong military, so higher-ups made the job appealing. There was free housing, food, and clothing, as well as a pay twice that of the average shopkeeper's. Those on the streets, thin and frail and unable to enlist to fight because of their inability to pass the tests evaluating physical and mental ability, saw the looting of any soldier as not only a way of getting by, but of exacting vengeance.

Aola didn't want to deal with any of these, for it was likely that, if she had to, they would not stop their assault and she would be required to kill them. They were so desperate, so needy, that they threw their own lives away in an effort to save themselves from starvation and their dignity from the soldiers; it had happened before, and Aola lived with the uncomfortable fact that it was likely to happen again. Magnus was walking further behind at the time, and if anyone saw that he was affiliated with her, they might go after him and reap at least a bit of satisfaction. If they were sneaky, she might notice too late, and, burdened as Magnus was with Riku, they could easily subdue him before he had ensured Riku's protection.

"Magnus; come on! It's dangerous here in the evenings," she called behind her. He hurried to her side, careful not to jar the fragile Riku. "We're nearly to the castle gates. We should be safe once we're inside." The gates were sturdy, a solid wall made of spiked iron, and reinforced on either side by towers, at the top of which stood multiple archers. A stone bridge extended above the gate, on which was situated the crank that could open or close the gate using a chain pulley. A guard stood at the top of this, equipped with an amplus (a Goron device that could carry one's voice for miles).

"Who goes there?" his voice rang, echoing between buildings.

"It is I, colonel Aola," she answered, her voice straining to reach the guard up on his height. "I have in my custody a refugee from the outer city. He's come to seek refuge for the night because his house was burned down in one of the riots. He has with him a spouse who was gravely injured; we must grant them solace for the night." She was met with a brief silence before a hasty affirmative was given and the gates were opened by a mere crack. She turned to Magnus. "Now, don't be surprised when they take Riku from you and tie your hands behind your back. You will be faced with many defensive swords."

"Alright," he confirmed. "As long as the hostility doesn't continue through the night."

"Oh, trust me, it isn't hostility," Aola said as she started through the gates. "It's procedure. We have to make sure you're no threat to us." Magnus nodded, accepting this, but this didn't keep him from backing away nervously when he was approached by several solemn-faced soldiers in chain mail, carrying rope.

"On your knees," one ordered.

"I'm carrying my wife," he said. "Could Aola take her from me briefly? I don't want to be uncooperative, but I also don't want to-" Already, a soldier had taken the limp body out of his hands and placed it in a horse-drawn cart. Magnus sunk to his knees, and the soldier who spoke to him pushed him down by the shoulders until he was facing the ground. His hands were promptly tied.

"Up," the soldier ordered. Magnus obeyed. He was led firmly by the wrist to the cart, where he got in without any trouble and his feet were shackled where he sat. "Colonel Aola, where shall we take him?"

"To the barracks, if there's an empty room," she said, nodding toward the stone archway at the other end of the vast courtyard, littered with military equipment and weeds. "He wants to take Riku, the burned one, to Nabooru, who can heal her, and I offered to let him accompany me on my return." The soldier eyed him coldly, knowing that Aola was trustworthy but that any number of things could go wrongly, and that procedure normally had to be followed regardless of irreverence or unpleasantry; but, in this case, was it really necessary? "I believe you're forgetting part of your security measures, captain."

"Guards! Fetch a mattress! Carefully unwrap the injured one's bandages and search her for anything dangerous!" The soldier addressed Aola. "Colonel, this is a highly contentious decision, when they come with such obviously dire need. We can't suffer any more adverse reputation."

"Whatever we do which may seem untrusting will be counteracted by the hospitality we show." Meanwhile, four soldiers were carefully undoing the elaborate tying of bandages, revealing the charred body within. Magnus looked on with horror, wanting to close his eyes but also feeling a duty to his wife to make sure the soldiers didn't do anything to injure her further or disrespect her. After they had confirmed that there was nothing hidden, two set to rewrapping the bandages and two set to searching Magnus. They ordered him up and patted him down, and when they were satisfied, he sat again.

"All procedures have been completed, colonel," the soldier said. Aola climbed in a cart parallel to Magnus's, giving the order to both drivers to continue into the courtyard. The rickety cart bounced about over the uneven dirt, and Magnus looked with concern at Riku, who was jostled back and forth in the bed of the vehicle. They entered under the shadow of the stone archway, where there were numerous stables and weapons racks. At the end of this lay a great wooden double-door. Everyone exited the carts and entered this.

Magnus was astounded by the barracks: it was a maze of stone and wood, windowless and lit only by dim torches. Somehow, Aola and the soldiers knew exactly where to go, passing through low-ceilinged halls where barrels of mead were lined up on tables, and narrower corridors, where they would press to the side to make room for passing soldiers. By the time they reached the room that was to belong to Magnus, he was feeling claustrophobic. They showed him in and took off his binds; he lay down on the bed. The soldiers then took Riku to the infirmary, and Aola climbed the staircase that led to the war room, where she knew at least one of the generals must be.

She was met there by Kibasho, of whom she wasn't particularly fond. He was for certain the most showy of Hyrule's generals, a previous merchant who had a greedy eye; he picked spoils off opponents and restored them for his own use. His devilish beard and short-cropped hair were complemented by a crimson hat and cape, the cape bearing gold traceries. He had one hand laid on his sword, a scimitar with a ruby encrusted in the hilt. "General," she acknowledged.

"Oh, yes, you . . ." he started, pointing a wagging finger at her. "You have a mission to accomplish. Some old lady who lives in a cottage near the outskirts of the city. Weren't you supposed to recruit her?"

"She refuses to come," Aola said. "No length of persuasion is going to convince her."

"Our king isn't going to be happy about that," Kibasho muttered.

Aola noticed he was studying a map. She studied where the pins marked: Andruen, Kijante, Ruan, Marthenoth. Four cities that had, for a long time, been self-contained and had not asked for assistance from Castle Town, but had received it anyway because of the war. "Why are these cities marked?"

"They are four relatively well-off cities that would do a great deal of good to support us financially. I'm trying to think of what we could offer each so that they'll feed this city enough money to get the damn populace under control without further bloodshed. But this is the concern of the generals; there is a matter of importance that is yours to see to. Follow me." Aola did so, following Kibasho through the castle to Hyrule's vault, a huge hall of a room lined on each side by massive iron doors. Kibasho unlocked one of these doors at the very end of the hall with a key, and two heaving guards pulled them aside. There were none of the neat stacks of rupees that one expected to see in the other rooms, but rather a single pedestal in the exact center bearing something floating above it, something that Aola was not able to define upon a first glance. It was of a vague gold color, but it stood out of place in its surroundings, like a stroke of chalk upon parchment that was written upon with primarily pen.

It was of another breed of reality, and Aola knew what it must be at once: a Triforce shard. How did the Hylian government ever come upon one of these? She got closer to inspect it, looking into its mirror-like surface. She was disoriented when she noticed that though she hovered above it, it was not her face that was reflected in its smooth surface, nor was it the walls of the vault in which it was housed. Rather, there were stark, cleanly cut figures of various shades, the corners of an otherworldly palace completely disconnected from the palace Aola currently occupied. "May I touch it?" she asked Kibasho.

"If you'd like. It's perfectly safe to the senses, but it's somewhat uncomfortable. Don't be surprised if your fingers happen to . . . tingle." Aola tentatively reached for the fragment, about one inch thick; both sides were smooth, as well as was one edge, but the rest of the edges had obviously suffered a rupture from the greater whole. Aola wondered at the strangeness of the consistency of its physical form, since the object was put into effect when absorbed into the consciousness of the user and had doubtless faded in and out of physical reality a great many times. She grasped it, and felt the numb tingling of which Kibasho spoke. It was lighter than air, seemingly not even solid, as if it were only adopting a solid form to fit within the confines of her comprehension.

"Do you know from which third of the Triforce this was shorn?" she asked.

"No; this was a gift from king Talvadin of the Zoras, found in a chest buried under the bed of sand in Lake Hylia. I don't think he knew what it was; his train of thought must've gone something like, 'Hylians appreciate shiny things. This thing is shiny. Therefore, the Hylians will appreciate it and it'll improve relations between our nations.' Not inaccurate, but to think of the power he was unknowingly giving up, even if he couldn't use it without extensive training . . ."

"How did you know what it was? Did you get it appraised?"

"Yes, by Nabooru. She said it was no use to her at the time, and that if Demise rose before she could stop the rebel Gerudo forces from summoning him, he would know that she had it. Of course, that would endanger her."

"But doesn't our possession endanger us?" Aola inquired, hoping that Nabooru thought of Castle Town highly enough to spare it the wrath of a dark god.

"No, because nobody has absorbed it into their consciousness, which is the only way it would show up in his godly sight. So Nabooru says. She also doesn't want to house it in the Arbiter's Grounds, because if there are any more spies, it would be vulnerable to their taking. So this is the most secure place for it, as of now."

Aola looked at it again, turning it about in the room and trying to get a better view of the hall that it reflected. She saw starkly defined, asymmetrical patterns of structure, shapes that she couldn't fully grasp because of her limited vision. It all looked so empty and featureless, devoid of color, just shape and light. "What is this?" she muttered under her breath. She turned it about quickly, examining the strange shapes of the hall, but amidst the turning, an image snagged her consciousness and left her white-faced. She turned the Triforce slowly back, trying to steady it. She was correct about what she had seen. It was a human form, rendered in a lifeless, featureless gray. It started forward, the motions of its perfectly proportional body smooth and exact. She gulped as she realized, given the angle of the Triforce, that the figure would be behind her in this plane of existence. Turning about, she saw Kibasho in her peripherals and yelped, leaping away from him.

He smirked. "I think it's time you put that down."

Blushing, she returned it to its pedestal. "There's another plane of reality that you can see in the surface of the Triforce, complete with people and everything. It's all rather drab, but ethereal in a way I can't quite describe."

"I know, and I've avoided looking into it myself," Kibasho said, glancing at the Triforce, which now sat crookedly in mid-air. He hastily adjusted it to be exactly level with the pedestal. He sometimes wondered why a pedestal was needed at all, when the shard was free floating. Perhaps because it just didn't seem proper to not have a pedestal, the Triforce being about the most pedestal-worthy thing of all the things that could be put on pedestals. "The visions of those halls can drive you insane, as cliche as that must sound. Sometimes, you'll see the faceless people carrying it around, as its reflection will be moving whereas it, itself is still."

"Or it could be moving on its own," Aola suggested.

"Either way," Kibasho said, shrugging, "it's a lot to think about, and not much of it is very reassuring. Now, before you present me with any more pointless speculations, let me tell you what you are to do with this." He picked it up and held it in front of her face. "Your job again involves Impa. You are to, without explicitly stating your purpose, find out how to absorb one of these things, that we might put its power to use. The full Triforce, I've been told, allows its user complete power over all the universe, and even a shard as small as this can grant one magical abilities beyond measure. It can also, if I'm not mistaken, allow for the handling of certain otherwise restricted magical-"

"I know what the Triforce can do, general." Kibasho put it back down as Aola spoke. "However, you act as if it can give you whatever you want instantly at the slightest whim of your mind. This is not true. It is just as difficult to use as, if not more difficult than, everyday magic. Even if I knew how to absorb it, this would be irrelevant because nobody in this castle's walls could use its power. I know vaguely how to extract it from someone upon their death, or give it to them as a gift, though; not that this helps us."

"Well, you aren't very optimistic. If you don't know, then learn! You're close to Impa, aren't you? This is why you've been given these jobs in the first place. Find out whatever you can from her. If you're lucky, you'll get to bear the Triforce, since you'll have had the most firsthand experience."

"Very well," Aola said, though she doubted there would be any way to manipulate Impa into giving up information when she would so likely be able to tell that it would reach Hyrule Castle, nor did she want to manipulate her. It was safest that the Triforce shard remain out of use right now; for some reason, current leadership had never considered putting together an army of mages, and relied completely on physical weaponry. There were not many practitioners of magic in the city, but there would be further in the south and toward the east, in the regions of Faron and Eldin. This would be an easier alternative to going after the power of the Triforce, which could only be used by one person and, in its shattered state, to minimal extent.

Agreeing to this task, she went about her next duty: summoning the team that had fired arrows indiscriminately into a crowd, killing several civilians (if deterring the rest effectively). She was scheduled to do this at noon tomorrow, but she would read up on each of the soldiers tonight to discern who might've instigated the offense. She retreated to her room, and there was a servant there who gave her a file for each soldier: fourteen of them total. She groaned and sat down on the bed, intending to do her reading, but after only a brief glance at one, she fell asleep and woke up at eleven the next morning, in a panic that she might've missed her meeting at the training grounds.

When she glanced at the clock, she calmed down, and, equipping her armor and straightening her hair, descended through the barracks out to the field. This place was always alive, man becoming desensitized to the slaughter of his fellow man as he grew used to the sound of snapping sinew through dummies of mesh and straw. He learned that killing was an art, and a victory was glory. Aola knew the heat of battle, and knew how _good_ it felt to be pumped with that perverse adrenaline, to feel her sword sink into the flesh of the meat sack that contained, somewhere deep within its flawed frame, the seed that was a soul. And she knew how cold and barren everything felt after the battle, when those red and pink sacks contained nothing of the sort anymore. She knew what it felt like to take off her helmet, and feel the wind in her hair, across her scalp, as if assuring her that it wasn't her fault.

But she knew it was. She had made a choice to become a soldier, a reaper of legalized destruction. There was nothing inherently wrong with it; what natural law did she break by the slaughter of Gerudo warriors that defied the will of the goddesses? Still, it made her feel sick. But as the squad of soldiers lined up and came to attention before her, she realized for not the first time that this wasn't obvious to everyone. There was no regret in the faces she saw, and she wondered at how anyone could have such a complete lack of remorse or moral judgement.

"Soldiers!" she started.

"Yes, ma'am!" they replied in unison.

"I have been informed that you've acted against the law of Hyrule by the slaughter of civilians for purposes other than self-defense or protection of the innocent. You fired arrows into a crowd that, while destructive to the property of Hyrule, posed no threat against you that called for such immediate and fatal measures. Now, if you had threatened, that would've ended altogether differently. There is no law against the use of intimidation for crowd control. You are receiving a formal reprimand. If we receive firsthand accounts of you taking such action again, you will be given dishonorable discharge without question."

"Yes, ma'am!" returned the chorus of voices.

All faces were still, unmoving entirely. Not a thought about what she had said had crossed their minds. She was pretty certain they would not commit such crimes again, but was still unhappy with the fact that they hadn't learned anything but that they were to follow the law to maintain their own status. "You are dismissed," she said, and they loosened up, walking casually over toward one of the training dummies. Aola looked behind her and saw them talking and laughing.

She had never been on particularly friendly terms with anyone in her squad when she was a private, and she wasn't close with anyone in her regiment now, which was, at the moment, fighting in the desert. She felt a bit of jealousy when she saw their relaxed choreography before she reminded herself that they were willing killers of the innocent and that she had no reason whatsoever to model her own behavior after theirs. Besides, the way they tossed their swords about in their hands and leaned on each other from time to time, their smiles, their general demeanor . . . it was nothing like the connection she had with Aryll; there was no deep friendship there, at least not of a breed that she was used to seeing. She'd never been comfortable in the army and remained in servitude solely out of a sense of duty.

She had felt a lack of purpose after Dysor died; he had been one of her closest childhood friends of her own age, along with Link, and his brutal murder was something she pushed to the edges of her mind. After his death, she purposefully wiped her memory of the details and, thankfully, had never been asked of them; she knew the risks of bringing the knowledge back to the surface. She decided to ignore her past, knowing most of her family and friends were dead, and devote her energies to that to which her father, the king, devoted himself. She joined the war effort and had been told she was a critical component and highly influential leader by Semak and Nabooru, king and sage, in response to her complaints that she felt petty.

It turned out that she had a knack for slicing off the heads of the already damned, but she hardly felt she was ever bestowed any significant leadership in terms of the decisions that were made. She wished she had enough information to help formulate a solution to the problem of the city's economic crisis that had left its people in turmoil, and promote full democracy, as radical as that seemed to politicians who had been involved in the system longer than she had. She knew deeply that Semak would support democracy, but he only told her to be patient when she approached him about it. The people were fed up with being manipulated at the hands of a royal family, she would tell him, and that when the lost princess Zelda's parents died on the battlefield, it was the practical usurpation of the late king Rhatnol that sent them over the edge. He had been corrupt, and, if her father's accounts of his experience with Ganondorf were to be believed, had kept up a correspondence with the desert emperor and dormant god.

Semak was put in office by what could not quite be described as an election. Rhatnol had been publicly executed while Semak, a highly praised general at the time, had been away, and upon his return, he had been surprised by a mob of people demanding that he be king. Semak hesitantly complied, and ever since then, he had ruled with a main concern for foreign affairs, letting Vothur wreak his destruction on the economy. Aola was convinced Castle Town's economic downfall and the rising demand for a democratic system were the two factors that led to the chaos the city saw today, but most were convinced that a restraightening of the first was all that was needed.

Aola was bothered by the dictatorial leadership she saw rampant across Hyrule. While the royal family had been mostly benevolent, they had instilled a system that allowed anyone to suffer undue losses at the hands of one cruel or negligent king or queen. And while Aola knew that strong leadership was necessary, she also recognized that it was risky to place so much power in the hands of an arbitrary leader. Living in an isolated village had taught her that those in charge were to be chosen by competence and mutual respect, and she wished she could do something from the menial position she was in to promote a system that was more along these lines. If only she could persuade her father to be more active in Castle Town's turbulent politics, she might have had a chance.


	5. Chapter 5

"No!" Impa cried, gnashing her teeth. "You are a fool to think me so stupid."

"I mean no harm. I only want to know about the Triforce. Whether the army will actually seek out and use a piece of the Triforce it is still up for debate; they are only recently aware of its applicability in combat, thanks to Nabooru. They don't even know much about its practical use, at this point, not any more than Aryll does." Aola tried to stay cool, but Impa's wrath, on the rare occasion it showed, was terrifying. It didn't help that, however Aola phrased it, she knew that she had attempted deception. "Please, I promise you the information won't reach any ears which might abuse it." Whether she could keep this promise was a matter of debate, and she was certain Impa knew this, too.

Impa turned away, slamming her fist into the wall, peering through the window at Aryll; she tended the garden unaware of the commotion inside. "I've practically raised you since your father's been king. And every teaching I pass to you is betrayed." She shook her head. "You can trust nobody in this world," she continued, her voice soft. "They all have ulterior motives, ways of getting under your skin promising medicine and then gouging the guts out until there's nothing left. The piece in the army's possession is just a small shard of the Triforce, similar to the one Aryll-"

"You know about the shard in the castle vault?" Aola demanded.

"Of course I know. I saw your intention in your face the moment you walked in," she snapped. "To think you pay no mind to the fact that I spent nearly two millennia living among your kind proves you are impatient and unintelligent. No wonder you ran off to contribute to Nabooru's pointless bloodshed; you are ruled by your visceral desires and by your senses."

"Very well," Aola said coldly, holding her chin a bit higher. "No need to berate me. Go on about the Triforce."

Impa glared at her. "This is just a piece of the Triforce, but if they know how to absorb it and use it, they can do so with the other pieces. And though one of the shards is certainly in the possession of Ganondorf, in whatever state of life or death he may be, and another may be lost to us until Zelda finds her way back, to give them the power to even hold that is a crime against the universe itself."

Aola knew this was true; she was simply doing her duty as a soldier, and she hoped that maybe she could push Impa over the edge just enough to storm into the castle demanding negotiations and not be torn between the obligations of hiding the information for its protection and disclosing it for its use. She might be able to shut them down regarding use of the Triforce, if she would show enough of her power to seem threatening. Aola could see Kibasho's face now, his smug certitude turning to fear in realizing that the sages weren't some backwoodsy lunatics to be recruited and ordered about for a specific skill set; they were powerful, and willful. At least the ones that Aola had met were.

Impa, after a pause, retreated to her room, her gaze turned downward as hot rage bubbled inside her. Aola found it a bit funny that Impa seemed completely oblivious that Aola had two possible goals for this conversation, and that she was trying to push the sage toward the second one; however, she could not be so sure. Impa might be ignoring the fact that she knew Aola's desired end because she understood herself, and she realized that the moment Aola confirmed Impa's suspicion of the soldier's intentions, her stubbornness would take over and she wouldn't go to the castle; little did Aola know that this was true, and Impa actually planned to do so, already chagrined at Aola's strange blend of mortal foolishness and practical wisom. If there was one thing Impa excelled at, it was, at best, self-control, and, at worst, self-repression. Why, then, was she displaying such anger? Impa asked herself this a great many times, and the answer always came clearly: her emotion was deeper than just one instatnce; it was rage directed toward the entire institution to which Aola had pledged her service. She was on the brink of causing a greater impact than that of a fist upon a wall, and she knew that if there was to be an outburst, it would be soon.

Impa had been bound to the Hylian government since the day of her birth. She was a Sheikah, a member of a magically bred race of Hylians: all female, asexually reproductive, and devoted specifically to the purpose of protecting the royal family. The Sheikah were all but extinct these days, and people usually attributed her strange appearance, with starkly red eyes and silvery white hair, to some sort of magical manipulation of her own doing. She despised her race's history and the blind devotion bred into her genes that she had only overcome by intensive training as a sage. She could smell royal blood, and the scent made her swarm to the side of any member out of an almost sexual urge, in order that she might protect them. When the goddesses chose her to assume the role of sage, she was still imbued with this flaw, which she had thought was something she had to overcome; only later did she learn that it was the goddesses' will that she be a sage specifically _because_ of her biological inclinations, hoping she would help to keep the royal family in place.

Ever since then, she had thought all natural instincts a lie, and couldn't help but realize her own hypocrisy as she nurtured a resentment that was anything but construed of pure reason. She had no reason to harbor a self-destructive hate for the goddesses, as they allowed her to resume the position of sage, finding her still useful, and had not yet taken any visible measures to halt the political change that was happening in Hyrule. They only wished the destruction of Demise, their arch enemy, whose powerful thrashing was based upon no ideology, only on his whim. Impa would continue to serve the goddesses only to assure that he was subdued and wouldn't bring the chaos he promised.

Impa learned from Semak that, if Ganondorf ever acquired the Triforce, he allegedly planned to kill the goddesses and redistribute their power among the people of the earth. As Demise, this would no longer be possible directly, as combat among gods was somehow prevented. Whether this was a pact among gods or a universal law Impa didn't know. She wasn't even sure of the defining line between gods and ordinary beings. But whatever the case, Demise would now either have to resume his mortal form (as had the goddess Hylia, who actually took human form to personally inhabit Zelda, whose job it was to keep the Triforce of Wisdom safe and to assist Link in his duties) or to enlist someone from the earth, which would allow him to maintain his godly power but permit the Triforce to fall into the hands of a being whose will he didn't completely control.

If this was the case, Impa wondered who might be the hero of Demise might be in the same way that Link was the hero of the goddesses. Likely, Demise wouldn't enlist an already existing mortal. He would construct a slave, someone whose sole purpose for existing was the service of the god and who was least likely to betray him when the Triforce was collected.

A figure lightly leaped across rooftops, the slim, muscular body pouncing from the edge of a shingled roof and landing like a cat on another, prowling the city unafraid of the heights on which he was poised. Invisible against the blackness of the night, he was only briefly silhouetted at times against the moon or stars, and even then an onlooker would've thought him a bird. He continued in his path until he came to his destination.

So high, even from here. The figure wondered if he could make the jump, and if, given that he succeeded, he could evade the guards that lined the ramparts of the castle. Perhaps it would be more to his advantage to teleport, but that would produce light and noise and alert the guards. A dramatic entrance would usually be in order, but the figure knew that at the slightest disturbance a horn would be blown and everyone in the castle would flock to the very object he was trying to steal. So he leaped, his thighs straining and carrying his light body high, he hit the edge of the wall and clung to it, jamming his feet into the crevice between two of the massive bricks that comprised the enormous structure. Effortlessly, he pulled himself up and vaulted onto a broad catwalk that on one side looked down on the city and on the other looked on the soldiers' training grounds. There was a ladder a distance off, closer to the gate, but if he was to reach it, he would have to get past the guards.

No problem, he thought. Might as well do it preemptively. He summoned several daggers out of the air and sent them flying forward with a flick of his wrist into the chests of the guards, who went satisfyingly tumbling backwards into the grass and sand below. Easy, bloodless deaths, and so much more potent than simply knocking them unconscious; the clean destruction was befitting of Impa, whom Hyrule would doubtlessly blame for the tragedy. He slid down the ladder, humming a tune to himself, a little anthem of glee.

He scuttled across the courtyard, and when he reached the barracks, he clung to the stone bricks of the wall, knowing that if he tried to make his way through the castle, he would be more at risk of being noticed. Here, he was more likely to be seen, but there had to be some level of danger; after all, this way, he had more access to the room of one of the generals, who had plucked a couple of the intruder's possessions off an opponent sometime in the past. The original owner was surprised that they had been preserved all this time. Slipping silently into the window, he examined the sleeping figure with admiration; the general sure was fashionable, with his billowing cape and ruby-encrusted sword. But they did not belong to him. With haste, they were snatched off of him, even as he slept.

The figure extended his lean, delicate fingers over Kibasho and took hold of the button on the cape, carefully undoing it and pulling it from underneath the general, holding his breath. When he finally took the cape, he let it go and started undoing the belt that held the sheath of the sword. As of yet, Kibasho had done naught but stir. He was thoroughly and deeply asleep, and the effort he made to protect his prized possessions was useless against the thief-owner's crafty fingers. Soon the sword was back in the hands of its rightful keeper. He let it go into thin air, where it disappeared into dimensions unseen. It made the slightest of ringing noises as it slid away, and the general's eyes started to open. Giggling, the intruder slipped out the door, slammed it, and searched the luxurious living room of the general's suite for something to stop the outward-opening door. There was a small statue of the goddess Din that looked weighty enough to stop it . . . but it would just be easier, he eventually decided, to kill the noisy man, and perhaps, since this was a more sound-insulated area, he could have a bit of fun with the poor soul first without being interrupted.

Unintelligible shouts began to emanate from the room. The intruder flung open the door again and stood in plain sight of Kibasho. "Hello, general," he said, grinning, his white hair tumbling over one gemlike eye, his pale gray skin ghostly in the moonlight. "I see you notice you're missing something. A cape, is it? Oh, and your sword's gone, too, right?" Kibasho snarled and leaped for the spectre, his fingers brushing the cape as his assassin vaulted backwards. "Yes," he crooned, summoning the sword again and snatching it out of the air. "You have an eye for things that aren't yours. Unfortunately, stealing tends to anger the original owner. Of course, you were probably well aware of this risk at the time you salvaged these items."

"I killed a man who carried them years ago," Kibasho protested. "You have no right to blame me for their disappearance. I'll hand them over, but for a price. They're worth thousands of rupees, and it was your mistake to let them out of your protection."

The other man laughed. "You do realize that I, at the moment, hold the sword in my hand and wear the cape on my back. If you want to negotiate, we'll have to do it physically." He brandished the sword, waving it about.

"Do not try me, fool," Kibasho growled, snatching another blade from a rack on the wall. "You've already broken my privacy and ignored the law of Hyrule. I have every right to kill you." He raised his own sword, and the blades clashed, Kibasho's opponent grinning with his face only inches away from the general's. "What's your name, fool?"

"Ghirahim," the assailant answered. "Yours?"

"Kibasho. It's a pleasure to meet you." Kibasho swung for Ghirahim's legs, but Ghirahim slid backwards and thrust his sword forward, just barely touching Kibasho's forehead. Kibasho crossed his eyes to see the tip of the blade. "If you tease me, you'll regret it," he stated calmly, backing away from the sword, his defenses raised. "Just hand over what's rightfully mine. Or pay up."

Ghirahim smirked and lunged like a fencer, the blade penetrating Kibasho's forehead and a trail of blood oozing from the wound. Kibasho gasped and opened his mouth, his eyes in focus a second longer before rolling back into his head as he slid off the sword and onto the floor. It was a shame, Ghirahim thought, that such a morally liberated person had to die in such a pointless way. How _utterly_ convinced he was that this thief in the night wanted nothing more than the cape and the sword and was perfectly willing to negotiate! The death was unfortunate but necessary, if witnesses were to be eliminated. He carried on, slipping out of the general's suite to continue into a long hall.

After a few twists and turns, during which he encountered no trouble, he arrived at the vault, a large, open room with several hulking iron doors. Behind one of those was a piece of the Triforce. Sticking to the wall and peering in from behind a corner, he saw several guards, two standing in front of each of the doors. It would be difficult to produce and maintain control over enough daggers to slay them all. Still, he began to conjure them, one by one, and found that, in time, he had dozens of the small things hovering in the air. He visualized each target, and, when he had it all in his mind, unstable as it was, he let the daggers go, and they flew effortlessly into the bosoms of all. It was noiseless, save from the subtle thump of bodies against the floor.

He moved in, trying to discern by sense which cell held the Triforce. Alas, it was no use, and Ghirahim almost yelped in frustration but held himself back. He chose one at random and flung it open with magic, regretting it instantly: he was not strong in physical magic, and the effort left him exhausted, with needles of light piercing the insides of his eyelids. It was mostly his wit that got him by these days, as a most unfortunate incident had significantly reduced his magical abilities in general. At least he mostly retained conjuration, the ability to bend dimension and tuck things away in unseen pockets of reality, a skill he had honed since his conception.

That's when an idea struck him. He didn't need to move the doors, he just needed to temporarily displace them in time. It would be noisy, as the metallic ring that came with phasing an object along a dimension indirectly was unavoidable, but Ghirahim was almost to his goal, and getting out would be just as easy as getting in if he could pull it off without being seen. One by one, he took out the doors, and a reverberating chorus of ringing filled the hall. He had no time to lose, now, as all eyes would be upon him soon. The Triforce was now visible, floating above a pedestal in the room directly in front of him. He raced forward and snatched it, seeing the familiar shadows pass underneath its metallic surface, the smooth edges of another world. "My old friends," he said darkly before tucking the small, vaguely triangular object away in an inner pocket of his cape.

He started back through the broad hallways of Hyrule Castle, hearing a ruckus behind him and hurrying up. He checked over his shoulder to see what he could. There was nobody to spot him yet, and if they were hidden in the darkness far behind, he would be the same to them, and his white hair and slim figure would suggest only one person in their knowledge, one who had already been brought to the attention of Hyrule's leadership: Impa. It worked out so perfectly. Smirking, he found Kibasho's suite again and ducked inside, freezing when he saw a figure before him bending down to tend to the general's body. He conjured a volley of daggers and sent them flying forward, but the victim was quick, and turned around just in time to duck out of the way. Ghirahim summoned his sword and went to stab him in the gut, but he was ready to parry with the sword salvaged from Kibasho's dead hand.

This was, in fact, Magnus, who was doing his best to remember the face before him. He knew that he was likely to be a culprit, and he could tell by his opponent's combined use of magic and physical weaponry that this was an advanced fighter whom he would not be able to defeat unless by a stroke of luck. At best, he could convince the white-faced ghoul that he had died, as the intruder was obviously in haste and would not hesitate to leave when he believed all witnesses were dead. He fenced a couple seconds more (which was truly an ordeal, as the superior fighter's moves were quick and flawless) before pretending to lose his balance and careen into the sword rack on the wall. He made a careful check that none of the swords, facing downward, would actually flip up and impale him, and when he had done so, he made it to seem as if something of this exact sort had happened.

Magnus's eyes bulged in his head, and he sputtered, his cranium rolling about on the wall. Ghirahim knew that he would be dead in a matter of seconds, a sword lodged firmly in his muscular back, and raced to the window, where he lightly descended the wall. This time, he had no qualm against teleporting and did so frivolously, draining himself of energy and not caring. It frustrated him that he could only teleport by a few meters at the time, and reminded himself that when he reached the outer castle wall, he would only need to do so once more, as nobody knew that he had this power and would search the catwalk above, not knowing that he had teleported through. He sprinted across the training grounds, checking his rear all the while, and only dared relax when he had phased through the gate and ducked into an alleyway.

Panting, he sunk to his rear and leaned back against the wall of a house, listening to the commotion behind him. He heard voices crying out and weapons being shuffled about, as well as an ominous screeching that raised the hairs on his head. Already, they had concluded he had escaped and were opening the rusty gate to search the city. He had to be quick, and silent, and invisible. He set off running on light feet, turning corners evasively and careening off walls like a cat as he leapt among the narrow alleys.

He was sure that he was approaching his destination, Impa's humble cottage, and he poked his head into the open for just a moment to try to spot the two black towers that hid it. He scanned the streets until he saw two soldiers doing the same and froze in place. Before they could make a move against him, he summoned a couple daggers and sent them flying forward; they took one soldier out easily, spearing him through the throat, but the other dodged and the dagger went spiraling into a wall behind him. Ghirahim drew his sword and flew forward, his bound twice that of any normal person. The unsuspecting soldier's eyes grew wide as the specter grinned at him. A single swing of the assailant's sword brought a clean decapitation, and Ghirahim ducked back into the alleys after having located the towers a couple hundred paces down the road.

The most resistance Ghirahim met for the remainder of the short journey was that of homeless beggars, who raised their weapons against him out of habit. He ignored them and sped forward still, knowing nobody would believe them if they served as witnesses; they gave up quickly. And before he knew it, there it was: the cottage. He needn't go inside, as to do so would probably trigger magical traps. If he could climb the side of one of the towers and carefully aim a dagger or two through the chimney, they would rest in the fireplace, and, not being flammable themselves, the daggers would be perfectly planted: coals of a similar color and texture seemed like an appropriately inconspicuous place to hide them. It was a place befitting of Impa. Grinning, he vanished and reappeared a distance up, clinging to a window on the side of the tower. He procured a hearty number of daggers and sent them through the chimney, and, seeing that they had entered uninterrupted, dropped to the ground with a smooth landing.

He fled from the city, silently and smoothly, and believing none had seen him.


	6. Chapter 6

Aola, at the time of Ghirahim's escape, was only meters away, though she could not have known it. The night was illuminated by torches, and the orders of officers filled the air with an echo that awoke the populace. People began to peer from windows, thinking that there must be another riot. Some huddled in fear, others prepared to leave in anticipation of the destruction, and still others only felt annoyance, having been yet untouched by the riots and determined that they were safe in their homes. Aola hoped the search would be quick, and that they would find the culprit before too many citizens were disturbed. Looking about to see if any eyes were on her, she started toward the alley in which lay Impa's home; she knew that Impa could be of help, but she didn't want anyone to follow and see her enlisting the sage's services, as any attention to Impa under present conditions would likely be that of suspicion.

Of course, Impa would be accused; that was inevitable. However, Aola didn't need to accelerate it, nor did she need to be associated with the mystic on this particular eve. She wasn't sure whether or not the government knew where Impa lived, but it wouldn't be hard for them to find her; at the moment, they were willing to negotiate and to use Aola as a mediator, but that would not last for long. Aola had three goals in mind: firstly, she intended to take care of the immediate, and implore Impa to find the perpetrator; secondly, she wanted to inform Impa of Kibasho's death; thirdly, she needed Impa's advice on how to divert the public eye, as Aola had known her for a long time and was confident that she would never commit murder with such gratuity only to acquire a segment of the Triforce. Though she did nothing about the suffering that surrounded her unless directly put in a position to address it (as had been the case with Magnus and Riku), she wouldn't let innocents get involved in matters that didn't pertain to them on a broad scale, when presented with a choice.

Aola slipped into the darkness of the alleyway and, checking again behind her to assure that nobody was following, ducked into the cottage. There she found impa peering out the window. "No, I was not at fault," she immediately snapped.

"I didn't assume you were. But they will," Aola countered. "I'm here to discuss what we can do to avoid incident. And who might have breached castle security. As far as we know, the culprit killed all witnesses."

"I haven't a clue. It's possible that Demise is behind this. On the other hand, there are surely plenty who want the Triforce for themselves, and I'm highly doubtful of your military's ability to keep secrets, given that you so readily revealed to me that you had a Triforce shard."

Aola suppressed the offense she took. She was about ready to walk out on Impa and leave her to the authorities, given that the haughty mentor had so long disregarded Aola's methods and intelligence. But she knew that Impa would be of help, as Aola couldn't see how the thief could have succeeded in the heist without the use of magic. "Do you think that you could find out if you were allowed to investigate?"

"Yes," she replied tersely.

"Then I'll arrange things that you might be able to do so. Also, if you had not already known one way or another, Kibasho, the general, is dead." Impa did not react. "Is this not important to you? There will be havoc. And you are, like it or not, at the center of attention, being the sole mage in the city of which the government's aware. Which brings me to the next matter: how are you going to defend yourself when they come pointing fingers?"

"It doesn't matter. I can find sufficient evidence to pin down who's actually at fault."

"You sound so sure of yourself," Aola said suspiciously.

"Of course I am."

"Then we've come back around to our earlier agreement: I'll find a way to allow you an investigation of the castle."

"I would expect no less," Impa said dismissively. "Now, please leave. You are of no further help at the moment."

Aola seethed at her comment but started toward the door nonetheless. How haughty could she be? Her fingers grasping the door handle, she clenched her teeth and tried to dispel the urge to argue back. But she had to say something. Under her breath, she muttered, "I'm not the traitor you think I am." She could feel Impa's eyes on her.

"What was that?"

"I'm not a traitor," she repeated.

Impa grasped Aola's shoulder and turned her away from the exit. "No, that's exactly what you are. I specifically advised you not to join the military. You made yourself a slave by doing so. What little authority you have is menial, and the rest is illusion."

Aola shook off Impa's hand. "I realize the narrowness of my power. And you overestimate yours." She immediately realized this was built upon no reason but was too stubborn to take it back; stubborn, like Impa, whom she was starting to despise.

"How would you know anything of the sort?" Impa retorted. "You assume too much; too much, at least, for the pawn you are." Her voice was steady and cool, her gaze firm. "Any cooperative involvement in any system is a form slavery, including the allegiance to the goddesses I have adopted. The only difference between you and I is awareness, consciousness, rational thought. You're just a slave."

"You're wrong," she muttered, advancing on Impa. "Do you think that I came here under anyone's direction? You think you're superior because of your skeptical delusions, don't you? What's this you say about rational thought? You, Impa, are broken. You're obsolete. Nobody subscribes to your twisted individualism, not even Aryll, who is perhaps the kindest and smartest person I know. But you suppress that. You-"

"Child!" Impa roared. "You don't know what you're talking about. Get out, now."

"No," Aola replied, shaking her head bitterly. "I'm not leaving until I wake Aryll and take her with me." She pushed past Impa and into Aryll's room, throwing the blankets off of her. "Rise, Aryll. We're leaving Castle Town."

The barely cognizant Aryll mumbled something and pulled the blankets back over herself. "Aryll!" Impa called. "Wake!" The girl snapped to attention. Aola burned internally, hating the way her best friend had been trained like an animal to respond to the stern voice of her mentor. "Aola wants you to leave Castle Town with her now, this very instant. What do you say to this?"

"Of course I'll come!" Aryll cried, throwing her arms around Aola, who smugly smiled back at Impa. "So you concede? I may go? But you were so opposed earlier!"

"I wasn't conceding," Impa said, taken aback. "I was trying to prove a point. A point about how your reason exceeds your adventurous whims. But I guess I was wrong. No, you aren't going." She wrenched Aryll away from Aola.

The colonel laughed bitterly. "What's 'reason'? I don't think you know what that means; you hate authority, all but your own, and you would assert yours over everybody if given the chance. We are done with your pretentious ramblings, Impa. Don't even think about pursuing us. We won't tolerate it."

"Oh, and what power do you have to escape me?" A sleek silver barrier, seemingly made of liquid that quickly solidified, formed over the doorway, and upon seeing this, Aola turned around to spit in Impa's face.

"You pedagogue!" she screamed. Aryll, still rather confused, had risen from her bed. "I'd run you through with a sword if I didn't need your help."

"Oh, a tool!" Impa cried. "Of course that's all I am to you. Your source of infinite magic to apply here and there when you need it, extracted with an appeal to what you think is my delusionary totalitarian rule. I laugh at you, because you have no idea what you're thinking. You're blind, which is why you need my instruction, mine! Not that of those dung beetles nesting in the castle."

"Aryll, I can't put up with this any longer," Aola said softly but sharply. "If you're true to a long-time friend, you'll take down her barrier and we'll leave this place behind."

Aryll didn't want to betray one or the other. Though she did harbor many of the same resentments against Impa that Aola clearly did, she didn't want to do away with the favor of her master . . . instructor, that was. Why master? Why did that, could that, come to her mind? She may have had a lot to learn from Impa, but she definitely wasn't her servant. And she supposed perhaps it was time to favor Aola over Impa. After all, Aola's proposal appealed to her while she usually obeyed Impa because she valued her wisdom. But the wisdom this time seemed to rest with Aola.

She had made her decision, and as she turned to the barrier, Impa sensed her intention. "No!" she screamed, trying to restrain Aryll, taking her by the wrist. "Don't you even think about-" She failed to finish her sentence, as she whipped around when she heard the sliding of steel against steel. Aola had drawn her sword. "You fool! You think you can pierce my skin? I am defended by divine power!" She turned on Aola and sent her flying into the wall with a flick of her wrist. "You haven't seen the full extent of what I can do, fool. If you leave, I will track you down and I will detain you." Aola struggled to get free of Impa's grasp, but Impa kept her firmly in place until she heard another sound: the melting of her barrier. She turned about and saw that Aryll was no longer in the room. "Gods curse you!" she cried between clenched teeth, storming after her but failing to find her. Meanwhile, Aola slipped away, as Impa searched the garden, and joined Aryll outside the house, ducking just around the corner. By unspoken word, the two were to escape on the opposite side, as Impa assumed that they had made a run straight out. They didn't get very far before Impa realized the direction in which they were running, and with a cry of anger, pursued them, locking them in place with a spell. However, they were already visible to those outside the shaded alleyway, and soon, a dozen soldiers had swarmed to the side of their colonel.

"What's the issue? You're in shock," one asked Aola. "Colonel, speak to me!" It was not long before he realized that she couldn't, every joint in her body locked in place. He wondered who the girl in bedclothes might be and why she appeared to be in the same state. Then he saw the humbly dressed, white-haired, red-eyed woman emerging from the shadows and intuited the causality. Like most would, he assumed her a selfishly motivated necromancer at best, the culprit of their search at worst. "Stop where you are!" he ordered, lowering his pike. She ignored him and continued forward, sizing him up. "I swear, if you've put these two in some sort of trap, you'll be arrested at once."

Silently, she let them both go, and Aryll rushed at once to Impa's defense. "She's done no harm to us. You can't arrest her-"

"I have reason to believe," Aola stated formally, projecting over the soft-spoken Aryll, "That this woman is to blame for the heist of a national treasure and the murder of several of the royal court and army." She stuck a finger out at Impa, who made no move to defend herself. She had realized that words were useless now; her two options were escape, which would bar her from any sort of normal activity in Castle Town in the future, and capture, from which she would be freed after through questioning and after the army pinned down their culprit.

"She's done nothing legally wrong," Aryll continued. "There was a small disagreement among us three, and she used magical means to keep us behind."

"Nevertheless, she's hindered, by physical means, my ability to conduct a government search of the city. Yes, she has committed a crime, and given her aptitude for magic, we cannot dismiss the possibility that she was the one who stole the-"

"I'm sorry," Impa started, "but trying to lock me up and shut me up will not help you find the culprit." She turned to the soldier. "Under whose command are you acting?"

"Hers," he specified, pointing to Aola.

She turned to Aola. "You have permission to search my house. I don't oppose questioning. I'm happy to conduct an investigation, as, if we face the facts, we all know I'm the only one in this city capable of magic the likes of which we saw used tonight in the castle, and therefore the only one capable of drawing any reasonable conclusion. And if I need to be supervised for a time, so be it."

"Listen to her speak!" Aola yelled. "She's dangerous; she says herself that she could have done everything that we've seen done tonight. She must be detained." Aola had assumed initially that Impa was morally incapable of the destruction that had been inflicted. She would not have acted, Aola thought, until she felt the security of the Triforce was at an immediate and costly risk. However, that opinion was starting to change as Aola concluded that Impa trusted her so little that Aola could hardly claim to know her. She wondered about what code, if any, Impa actually lived by, for it almost certainly wasn't the one of peace that Aola had first been taught. How could one be so indifferent to human life? How could one, with this indifference, keep one's hands clean of death when something significantly more important was at stake? She had assumed as a given that Impa wasn't to blame for the heist, but was this really wise? There was no easy way to find out, but there was a place to start. "Soldiers!" she called. Several came rushing. "I need this house searched," she commanded.

"Yes, colonel," a few responded, heading towards the cottage.

"The rest of you: restrain this woman." She pointed to Impa, and Aryll opened her mouth to protest. Aola silenced her.

Meanwhile Impa did nothing to stop the soldiers who bound her wrists with rope, but she glared at Aola. The colonel knew that she had ways of severing the rope and only refrained to avoid further chaos. However, she was expecting the castle's defenses, inside and out, to be penetrable, and would be surprised when Aola ordered her into a room with stone walls five feet thick with a guard of thirty or more. Impa was powerful in magic, but her wit had obviously declined as her self-assuredness had skyrocketed. So much for the wisdom of the sages.

It didn't take long before the soldiers emerged from the cottage, carrying what appeared to be darts of a sort. "Colonel," one called. "These daggers are identical to the ones we found lodged in several bodies within the castle. They were sitting in the fireplace among the coals."

Even Aola was surprised to hear this. "So this is evidence that the weapons we found are hers? Impa's?"

"The red-eyed Hylian's? If this is her home, then yes." When Impa heard this, her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in scrutiny. "Impa, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Bring the daggers closer," she ordered.

Aola scowled. "You do understand that we have no reason to let you near a weapon."

Impa rolled her eyes. "You of all people know that I could very well escape these binds if I wanted to. Let me see the daggers." The soldiers brought them before her. They were small and black and intricately engraved, the obsidian surface shimmering under the moonlight. "Just as I suspected. There is only one person, or demon, rather, who carries these. I haven't seen him in . . . years."

"Stop this cryptic nonsense," Aola demanded. "To whom do these belong?"

"Ghirahim. Servant of Demise. His second in command, you might say."

"What's she talking about?" a soldier inquired.

Aola was dumbfounded. She wasn't sure whether or not to believe Impa, but she knew that the threat of Demise was real, and she couldn't risk unwarranted imprisonment of Impa if there was another out there with a Triforce shard. "Impa, please elaborate; distinguishing marks, abilities, past appearances . . ."

"Ghirahim is a demon, created well over ten thousand years ago by Demise to thwart the original Link and to capture the original Zelda, the incarnation of Hylia."

"Seriously, what's going on here?" the soldier repeated.

"Don't worry," Impa said. "I'll tell you in a second. But I must give your colonel a background. You see, Aola, Ghirahim was believed eradicated shortly after his creation, by Link, nonetheless. However, it seems that some residual fragments were left over, from which Demise was able to reconstruct him. So it is with most sentient beings. Now Ghirahim is fully functional again. For how long this has been, I have no way of telling. But he is obviously well enough to do serious damage."

"While I might have a better understanding than the soldiers here," Aola started, "I'm also not sure how this is relevant to our immediate situation. If there's anything you could tell us that would allow us to capture him before he escapes the city-"

"It's too late. He already has, and you have no chance of catching up with him. I know you've become awfully suspicious of me given my recent . . . mistakes. Outbursts. Whatever you want to call them. And I don't expect you to trust me. But know that he is the culprit and that I state this as truth, because I know it is true. Though you cannot know as I do, take into account that I have given you the identity of your thief."

"What in Din's name are you talking about?" the soldier asked again.

"Don't bother trying to understand," Aola muttered. "Impa, might you give us a description? Something by which to recognize him?"

"Fine. If you are so determined it will help." Impa gave Aola an upturned glare. "He has pale skin and white hair, a red cape inlaid with diamonds, a sleek black scythe. A distinctive figure you couldn't miss if he weren't so stealthy. Send all the men you want, you won't catch him now that he's outside the city."

"Do you mean to persuade us to let you go?" Aola asked.

"It's your choice of course," Impa snapped back.

A soldier grimaced and shook his head. "We can't risk it, colonel. We've got to take her back for questioning. After all, you are receiving your evidence from someone whose physical description matches that of the one she gave; at least the pale skin and white hair."

Aola considered. "Did you catch a glimpse of the culprit within the castle?

"Not personally," he continued. "But I've received word that the description matches. Please, colonel, I advise you to order an arrest, for the sake of all our safety."

Aola crossed her arms and looked at Impa, waiting to see what she would do, knowing that she had the power to escape and yet did not. It was hard to tell whether she was trustworthy, since while she was cooperative, all the evidence seemed to point directly back at her. "Detain her and bring her to the dungeons," she ordered grimly. Aryll protested by her side, but Aola paid no attention, though she grasped the colonel's clothes and begged her to let Impa stay. Impa didn't struggle; there was nothing in it for her. Aola knew that once the sage regained her head, she would be clever enough to worm her way into the city's trust. Which is why Aola chose to give a second order: "And do not release her under any conditions or at any cost. Not unless I give such an order."

She watched as the soldiers retreated back into the heart of the city, and told a nearby scout to deliver a message to the remaining soldiers: the search was off and the culprit had been found. Once she had done this, she turned back to Aryll, who seemed paralyzed with fright and sorrow. "You don't really think she was at fault, do you?"

"You indoctrinated child, can't you see that everything we have points to her?"

"You think I trust her too much?"

Aola started for the castle and beckoned for Aryll to follow. "You trust everyone too much. You give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry I had to give that order, but you must see the logic in why I did so."

"I do," she conceded reluctantly.

"We aren't doing anything terrible to Impa, only locking her away for a while until we can rule out the possibility of her participation in the . . . events tonight. Do you know how many soldiers the infiltrator killed? Over twenty. You know that Impa is indifferent to human life when she believes something else is at stake. Like the security of the Triforce. Which I might have inadvertently given away."

"She would have known anyway," Aryll protested.

"Impa is not all-knowing!" Aola snapped. She insisted upon silence until she reached the castle, but Aryll emphasized that she was not a child and could speak her mind. So Aola herself was silent, while Aryll gave a thousand protests. The colonel never wanted a situation like this, where she would have to act as Aryll's superior, for she felt like her friend and nothing more. But she had to be stern now for the good of the kingdom. She allowed herself to speak again when they reached the castle, shuffling among the numerous other soldiers as they made their way through the training grounds and into the barracks. "I'm sorry. You know that I wouldn't hurt you unless it was necessary."

"You didn't do anything to hurt me," Aryll said. "You had to make a decision and you did. It's alright." She touched her friend's arm softly. "If anything, I should thank you for freeing me. And I should apologize for letting Impa's influence overcome my own thinking."

Aola smiled. "Thanks for coming to your senses. I was scared for a bit that I'd lost a friend. Now, tomorrow morning I am leaving for the Arbiter's Grounds to fight my father's war, and am bringing Magnus and Riku with me. Do you want to come?"

Aryll nodded vigorously.


	7. Chapter 7

The night passed slowly, and Aryll got very little sleep. The cold walls of the barracks seemed claustrophobic compared to the aired-out space within the cottage. Aola's breathing beside her was a slight comfort, but she couldn't forget the conflict that had happened just minutes earlier. Aola had broken her world by arresting Impa, whose defenses, it had previously seemed to Aryll, were impenetrable. But she couldn't argue with the logic of the arrest. Impa's unfeeling calculation could have easily led her to murder in order to secure the Triforce; the only reason, it occurred to Aryll like a shard of ice, that Impa had been seemingly sympathetic to Aryll was the possibility of her redeeming what Impa valued most: the dominance of the goddesses.

She had always wondered what motivated Impa to pursue such a goal. Was it the preservation of life? Certainly the chaotic and unrestrained rule of Demise would bring about more destruction than would the already demagogic but more reasonable rule of the goddesses. It was, perhaps, a choice between the lesser of two evils that had kept Impa in stubborn battle after all. And she certainly wasn't benefiting much herself from the role she had to play, so perhaps she was altruistically motivated after all, and simply thought that the sacrifice of nearly two dozen lives was worth the safekeeping of an object that could be used to evil ends. But to sacrifice innocents so easily didn't seem like the Impa she knew at all.

There was also the possibility that Impa was telling the truth in pinning the crime on this demon that most thought she had invented. Ghirahim, his name was. It was a foreign name, yet it seemed so familiar on her tongue. And Impa had before spoken of demons under the command of Demise; she just hadn't listed any names in particular. The abstract treatment of these figures always struck Aryll as strange. She had been taught the history of Hyrule and the incessant meddling of Ganondorf, Demise's mortal form, but she had never seen any evidence of the godlike entity Demise, or even of any other sages besides Rauru, whose place among the sages was only the claim of Impa, to her knowledge. For all Aryll knew, Impa was nothing but a crazy old witch who had mislead her since the day she rescued her from the ruins of her village, and her teachings, though true in the application of magic, had been horribly misrepresentative of the state of Hyrule.

Aryll thought to herself that she was under Aola's protection now, but she knew this was inaccurate. Aola was not proven to be any wiser than Impa, and looking for another wing to hide under would only lead Aryll back to the place in which she had found herself, her being subject to the whim of an authority figure. It was only Aola's intelligence, her skills as a fighter, and her military rank that kept her in a position of authority. And while Aryll didn't have any of the social advantage that Aola had and was not sure where she stood in terms of intelligence, her magical abilities had ten times the destructive potential of any individual sword. If anything, it would be up to her to protect Aola. And she would gladly do so, not for the stern military officer she had seen today, but for the childhood friend she hoped would never disappear behind an inflated sense of duty.

Aola slept peaceably as Aryll laid awake with bloodshot eyes, not knowing whether the sun was up. She knew that if she did not sleep she would be too tired to be any help during the journey tomorrow, but such sleeplessness was the price of change. For seven years of her life she had lived in that single cottage and not left the confines of the city, and here she was about to make the journey to the desert in the east and confront creatures of which she had only read and traverse environments unimagined. Aola was adapted to this sort of change; she lived travelling vast distances and confronting all sorts of wonders and horrors, but for Aryll, the world had been a small marble that fit into the palm of her hand, a mere concept. Aola, who had just opened her eyes and who was pressing a palm to her forehead, her face in a scowl, knew a different world: something that could consume her.

"What time is it?" Aola asked wearily. "How long have you been awake?"

"Don't know," Aryll said. "Is there any way to tell?"

"There's a bell that goes off at six here. Hear anything?"

Now that she thought of it, she did hear the tolling of a bell a bit earlier and attributed it to the everyday city noises; but she was well away from those, inside a fortress surrounded by a thick black wall. "Yes, I believe I did."

"How long ago?"

"I'm not able to say. An hour, perhaps?"

"Then the guard should be making his rounds, waking people up by now. Unless we want to deal with him, we should get up and find Magnus and Riku." She slid out of bed and slipped on her mail, not bothering to change. "You know where the infirmary is? I have to take care of some formalities before I take my leave. It'd be nice if you could go wake them up, if they're asleep. Tell them we're leaving within the hour."

"I'm not sure where it is, but I can ask around. Don't let me slow you." Aola gave her a thankful grunt and headed out the door, leaving Aryll to poke her head out of the room into the narrow, dungeon-like passageway, lit only by faint candles. She looked around for another soul, but found nobody. "Aola, I may need your help," she said quietly, but the older girl was already gone. Quietly, she began to explore, weaving around in the maze of passages, sure that there must be some order to the way they were built. She saw an open door to her right at one point and saw a table full of food that seemed to have been left overnight. She ducked in and found a lone soldier enjoying a drink in his chair. "Excuse me," she started quietly, but he butted in.

"Ah, you there!" he proclaimed. "I've been waiting for one of you to come along! Anyone at all, really; it gets lonely in the late hours of the night."

"You do realize it's seven in the morning?"

"To hell with morning!" he cried. "They drill us all day. They tell us when to eat, when to sleep, when to breathe. Some sort of test of discipline. Which is why I stay up. It's the only time I get when I'm not subjected to the will of some dimwit with a badge."

"Do you know where the infirmary is?" she asked tentatively.

"Well, it's not here, I'll tell you that," he said before rambling some more about the drudgery of a soldier's life. Aryll would gladly have listened, but she knew she had to keep moving. She left the small dining hall and searched the corridors further, eventually finding herself winding down a long spiral staircase. The room she found herself in now was nearly pitch black. She could just barely make out the faint outline of the walls, archways separated from each other by about three feet each. She knew that there was likely nothing down here, but she headed in anyway out of curiosity. "Who's there?" a familiar voice called in low tones.

"Impa?" Aryll cried.

"Not so loud; the other prisoners will wake up and I don't feel like listening to their chatter." A faint white light appeared in the air, revealing sturdy iron bars, behind which Impa was chained by her wrists to a wall, her face grimy. "I was a fool last night, as was Aola. You were the only one with clear reasoning, I'm afraid. And the two of us pushed you aside without a thought. I'm sorry."

"Are you alright?" Aryll asked innocently. "Why are you kept in near darkness?"

"Because little mercy is shown to prisoners here. But don't have pity on me, for I could escape if I wanted to. You know that. I must stay so they can feel in control and I can eventually be ruled out as a suspect." She extinguished her light, as if to signal Aryll that she couldn't stay for long. "Aola is right. You must go to Nabooru and heal Riku. Then learn whatever you can from her about the war on Demise. Magnus will be in the infirmary with Riku. Ascend the stairs, then take the second door on the right."

"Thank you, Impa." Aryll hurried out of the prison and followed Impa's instructions, finding herself in a long hall filled with beds, separated by curtains. A couple weary nurses tended to their patients.

"Who are you?" one asked. "You hardly look as if you belong in a place like this."

"I'm here for Magnus and Riku. Are they awake?"

The nurse smiled wanly. "Riku died during the night. Magnus is here, but he, um . . . mourns. I wouldn't approach him at the moment." Aryll was taken aback, quickly pushing past the nurse to see Magnus sprawled over one of the beds, that upon which his dead wife lay. "What are you doing?" the nurse inquired.

The man was motionless; if Aryll didn't know better, she would've guessed he had died as well. "Magnus?" she called softly, receiving no response. Daringly, she put a hand on his shoulder and shook him. He trembled. "Magnus, please, I need to speak with you." He turned around, his head visibly shaking as his gaze diverted upwards.

"Two sets of memories. Fighting for dominance. I had no choice."

"He's completely out of it, you see. I wouldn't persist further. Who sent you?"

"Aola," Aryll replied. "Colonel Aola sent me; she was going to escort these two to Nabooru when she returned to the war. She was told she could be of some help." She turned back to Magnus, once again completely slumped over his lover. Aryll picked him up by the shoulders. "Help me," she said, to which the nurse responded reluctantly by moving to Aryll's side. Together, they moved him to a free bed. "I'm sorry to have walked in unwelcomed. But he's not in a state of mourning."

"Perhaps not. He's in a state of delirium, if anything."

"Not quite. Did you notice anything strange between these two?"

The nurse laughed. "Anything strange? You mean the way he hovered by her bedside for hours even though she was completely wordless? Staring at a burned corpse for the majority of your waking hours qualifies as more than 'strange.' And he's been worse than ever since he returned from that mad chase that happened last night to find his wife on the brink of death. As I gather, he also had a run-in with the perpetrator. It's a shame he's not got enough wit in him to share what he knows."

"He wasn't just staring. He was talking to her. A prominent mage here connected their minds so they could speak. My guess, from his meager words, is that he's somehow completely taken her mind into his now that she's suffered a physical death." The nurse looked at her blankly. "I understand, it must seem implausible, but I'm telling you that's what's happening. I can fetch the colonel for you; she can confirm, and then we'll be on our way."

"With my approval. I have to deem him medically ready for leave. Perhaps with a word or two with this 'prominent mage' of yours."

Aryll grimaced internally. She shouldn't have said anything about Impa. She hoped that Aola had enough influence to bypass the word of this skeptical nurse. "I'll be back soon," she said, heading back out of the room. Aola would be expecting her back in their quarters, but Aryll wanted to visit Impa again first to see if what she had guessed was true. She descended back into the prison quarters, hearing shuffling now and mumbled voices; a number of prisoners were now awake. Silently as she could, Aryll estimated the place where she had found Impa, but she slipped and nearly fell. She cried out and the prisoners began to shout.

"Get out of my face!" one screamed just before a hard object hit Aryll on the shoulder and she broke into a run.

"Aryll, over here!" Impa's voice called. Aryll again saw the orb of light that Impa had created before and hurried over to where she was chained. "Inside!" The door was thrown open and Aryll didn't hesitate to proceed into the cell, now looking out of rather than into the iron bars. "What is it, Aryll?" The prisoners went silent as they witnessed this display of magic.

"It seems," she began, "that Riku has died in the night, and Magnus now has two minds inhabiting his body. He said something about two sets of memories, and that he didn't have a choice. Is this possible?"

Impa pondered for a while. "Yes, though how he managed a feat like that on his own I don't know. It's a jarring experience, having two minds within the same body. An infusion of both her personality and memory have overtaken him. Every thought, feeling, and sense that Riku had is now part of Magnus's being, and his brain wasn't meant to keep two separate strains of memory intact. He will be overwhelmed for weeks, likely unable to function when you and Aola take him to Nabooru. No need to bring Riku's body now."

"So when he comes to his senses, will they need to cooperate in determining who holds dominance at any given time?"

"Nobody will hold dominance. They are one person now, with two means to the single end of their being. They will speak as one and think as one, once they wrap their mind around the idea that the struggle is not necessary. But there is no way you can communicate this to them in their present state. When you and Aola depart, they will be nothing but baggage."

"Good to know," Aryll said. She started out of the cell door, but stopped midway. "I'll miss you, Impa. You were a good mentor."

"Only a mentor?" she asked sorrowfully. "I had thought myself incapable of regret, but now that you're leaving, possibly for good, and I've recognized the error of my ways, I would hope that I was more than a mentor to you. Perhaps a friend."

Aryll smiled. "Perhaps a mother," she replied, embracing Impa around the waist. Impa did not undo her restraints to embrace her back, but she planted a kiss upon Aryll's forehead. "I love you, Impa."

"As I do you," Impa replied. "I hope you never lost sight of that, though I was cold sometimes. Tell Aola I love her, too; you both are like my children, though I was not fain to show it. My standards of impartiality have done more harm than good."

"I know, mother," Aryll said, sobbing. "I have to go now." She let go of Impa and exited the cell, watching as the door shut behind her. Neither said any more goodbyes as Aryll wiped the tears off her cheeks and went to see Aola, who was waiting for her. Aryll recounted what she had seen in the infirmary, but avoided word of having spoken to Impa for the moment. After Aola helped Aryll into a suit of mail, they collected Magnus with very little trouble from the nurse, who was not as willing to oppose the colonel as she was her messenger, and wrapped him in blankets, placing him delicately in the back of a cart as they would have done with Riku's body. As Aola saddled up her horse and selected one for Aryll, who didn't have any riding experience but would have to learn by necessity, Magnus every so often muttered something about chaos or overwhelming pain.

"Isn't there something we can do for them?" Aryll inquired as they writhed in their makeshift bed. "Perhaps we should go back to the nurse for an anaesthetic to administer. We can't just let them lie like this."

Aola rolled her eyes. "Then he'll be in pain in his dreams. If what you told me is true, he's not going to get rest until he comes to term with the fact that two separate people are living in his head." She hitched the cart to the back of her steed, moving to help Aryll atop hers.

"I know, but there has to be something we can do."

"Aryll, please. You're the mage. If we are to do anything, precisely what is up to you."

Aryll was afraid to use magic on a being so vulnerable, not knowing quite what effect it would have on their mind. A sleeping spell would certainly be too risky, but perhaps a purely physical spell, a stasis curse that only she could remove, would render every atom in their body immobile and thus suspend their consciousness. And though she knew they needed to maintain their conscious state to learn how to manage the excess weight, that would be far more easily and less dangerously done when not on the road. Aryll sloppily dismounted her horse, closing her eyes and summoning the beads of rushing light to her brain. But instead of feeding energy into the outside, she used the beads to form tentacles with which she could reach out and draw energy directly from the body; and once all of it had left, she used it to form a small energy barrier around the body that kept out all heat, which would reactivate the body and make the spell for naught. Now, only an intensely concentrated heat could pierce the barrier, one which she could produce when the time was right.

"I've cast a spell on them. They sleep peacefully now."

"Well, that was easier done than said," Aola commented. She dismounted and walked around to where the body lay, her brow furrowing as she saw the eerie, inhuman stillness that enveloped Magnus. She lay a hand against the skin of his arm and recoiled with a look of disgust. "His skin is cold and tough!" she cried. "You've killed him!"

"No, just put them in a state of no energy, energy that I can re-supply."

Aola gave her a wary glance. "I know a dead man when I see one, and this is a dead man! You're sure you know what you're doing?"

"You know me," Aryll said, laughing. "You know I wouldn't kill someone; and if I did, I'd fess up to it."

Aola gave an affirming nod, though the look of worry didn't leave her face. "Then I suppose we'd best be going," she concluded. She helped Aryll back atop her horse, but when she noticed just how inept Aryll was at the reins, having never even been atop one on her own before, she suggested that Aryll ride in the cart, and Aryll didn't argue. She decided that she would learn to ride a horse, however, when the time was convenient.

The city streets were crowded as ever, and people jeered at Aola as she rode past. Aryll ducked, hoping to avoid being seen wearing the armor of those who had allowed the city to slip into anarchy-and, on a more practical level, to dodge the various items being thrown at the cart. She covered Magnus's vulnerable form with her body in case something should land on him and hoped for the best. It was a long while before they had exited the city gates, and when Aryll finally dared rear her head to see the surrounding landscape: smoothly rolling hills like an ocean, the green grass rippling in the wind and the occasional tree waving like a spirit in the cosmic stream. The sky was littered with clouds that shone at their edges with a gleaming light but were dark in the middle as they covered the sun, and a flock of birds danced about it.

"I'd forgotten what this looked like," Aryll said.

"And you won't forget again," Aola replied. "I'm not letting anyone keep you cooped up in castle town as long as Impa did. You're going to see the world, I swear. And if it's Demise's fall and the reclamation of the Triforce that she was preparing you for, that's exactly what you're going to do; but we can't let Demise rise at all. We have to take out the Gerudo faction that plans to bring revive him."

"I know." Aryll leaned out the side of the cart, watching the wheels roll over the grass, which was relentlessly moving past. "So you agree with Nabooru that this war is for the better? That it's the only way to avoid a greater war later?"

"If I didn't, why would I be participating in it? This isn't just about my duty to my father, you know. Our chances of success will only be narrower when they resurrect Demise."

"That seems logical, but there has to be a more efficient way of doing it than to pour precious lives into the capture of a single fort."

"But there is no other way. The fort is very heavily guarded from every side. It houses all of the Gerudo rebels, who have the advantage of defense. Our forces, meanwhile, are spread thin."

Aryll was troubled. If Impa's and Aola's accounts of the war in the east were accurate, it sounded like Nabooru was slamming herself against an impenetrable wall more than she was making progress on any sort of victory. "Can't you manage to slip a single spy in? Take out whatever is needed to resurrect Demise in that way?"

"Every spy we've sent has been killed. Trust me, if we could only get a hold of that knife, a sacrificial knife that belongs to a Gerudo rebel named Ashkini, they could not perform the ritual and it would put them on the offensive."

"But why must we be on the offensive now?" Aryll inquired. "If we stopped attacking, I would think it unlikely that they ignore us. They would, in the best case scenario, open negotiation, and in the worst, attack us, and then it is we who would have the advantage of defense. As I understand it, the Arbiter's Grounds are anything but vulnerable."

"In any normal case, I would agree with you. The problem is the possibility of them already having resurrected Demise. As a sage, Nabooru should have been able to feel it, but we must not put aside the possibility of the rebels devising a way to slip all that under her nose. Demise may be alive and they may be trying to weaken our forces by keeping us attacking in the hopes that we may halt the process before it's started."

"Then we'd be falling into their trap, wouldn't we?"

"Yes, but the alternative is letting them know that we suspect Demise's activity, in which case they'd have nothing to hide and they'd unleash Demise's power on us. We're caught in a lose-lose scenario and our best bet is to keep storming their fort until we manage to penetrate it, or at least bide the rest of Hyrule time before our impending defeat."

"Then you agree with Nabooru that our only choice is war, but with Impa that the war is essentially futile." Aryll didn't like this picture. She was starting to wonder if the opinions of Hyrule's citizens would change if they knew the full implications of their circumstances; perhaps they would take up arms and the Gerudo army, commanded by Nabooru and Semak, could be joined by the Hylian army, commanded by the remainder of the Hylian generals: Bied, Sisiri, Eko, and Vothur, who was presently king in Semak's stead. "Would our chances be any greater if we had the Hylian army at our side?"

"Yes, but we can't very easily have that happen as long as the concerns of our leadership remain focused on the desire of the citizens to rip our society to shreds. The populace wants their king back, but that's not going to happen as long as this war persists; I wish there were a way to tell them that, but this mob mentality is invulnerable to reason."

"There must be something we're missing. What did Semak offer that our present leadership doesn't?"

"Nothing much in terms of day-to-day government, but they like him because they chose him themselves."

"Then wouldn't it make sense to adopt a democratic system like the Gerudo and the Zora have? One where they elect a king?"

"Oh, and you think that those in charge, proponents of the royal family, are going to listen to that? The only reason that Semak is king is because Zelda, who was next in line for the throne, was away fighting Ganondorf's armies of Lizalfos with your brother at the time the old king was killed."

"And wasn't he not of the royal family either?"

"No, he was chosen for the throne because Zelda was too young to rule at the time her parents died in battle. But at the time, he was viewed as an usurper by most, which Semak is not only because Zelda is now seen as a deserter. You can't win by installing a new system so quickly, and besides, I highly doubt that we could figure out such a complex problem ourselves, given that the sages have thought long upon this issue without yet reaching a conclusion."

"Impa is evidence enough that age does not equate to wisdom. Yes, they're generally wiser than ourselves, but they can have lapses in reasoning. I say that we can rally the people behind our cause if we give them what they want: democracy, which is a better system anyway."

Aola laughed. "Why, though? Have the rulers of the royal family not been just?"

Aryll knew that Hyrule had been a peaceable nation for years, and conflict had only arisen because of a war that brought itself to Hyrule's doorstep. But had the peace been one of happiness or one of complacency? Either way, there was no going back to the old system, not if what Aryll had seen in the heart of the city held more substance than the crying of a toddler.


End file.
